Moving Pictures
by tx-fictionqueen
Summary: Amy Fowler, a sullen woman with a dark past, moves to a small town to start fresh. After exploring the woods behind her new home, Amy stumbles upon a secluded world full of intrigue, creativity, and headed by a mysterious man named Sheldon. But she soon learns that escaping her painful reality to be part of Sheldon's could endanger her life. *Total AU, OOC Shamy & other TBBT cast*
1. Road Trip

**A/N: Shame on you, tx-fictionqueen! Starting a new story while you've already got one in progress even though you promised yourself that you wouldn't. But as all of you fellow writers know, sometimes we can't help ourselves. This idea, I assure you, has been haunting my dreams for awhile. **

**It's rated 'T'…**_**for now**_**. And although the characters are going to be OOC (this is an alternate universe, after all, and Amy will be slightly younger than her character in the show), you'll be able to spot some similarities to their canon quirks. ;) This is pretty different, I have to admit, but I really hope you guys bear with me and enjoy it! **

***I do not own rights to The Big Bang Theory or any of their characters or likenesses. Everything else is mine.***

* * *

Amy unzipped her sleeveless black dress then let it fall to the carpet. She stepped out of the pooled fabric and yanked open her closet to find a pair of sweats and a T-shirt to change into. Her father's funeral had been lovely, albeit slightly over the top. She had been surrounded by a community of famous actors and directors all morning, and she was finally glad to be alone. Now in comfy clothes, she tip-toed around the nearly empty brownstone apartment in the upper east side of Manhattan. It was one of the many homes that her father owned and the first home he had ever given to his daughter to live on her own. But according to the last will and testament of Robert Michael Fowler II, the property, along with all of his other houses and apartments sprinkled around the country, were to be vacated and sold on the competitive market, with all the proceeds promised to the ASPCA, in honor of Amy's love of animals, and to the American Cancer Society, in honor of both of his late parents and the diseases that ultimately killed them.

Except one house. A Victorian-styled two story abode on the other side of the U.S., a place that Amy had never been to in her entire life. Her father's childhood home, tucked into the most secluded areas of the Puget Sound in upstate Washington. This home was now Amy's.

Along with an inheritance that she couldn't hope to blow even if she lived five lifetimes, Amy's father saw to it that the deed to the house in Washington was now in her name. She could have bought the brownstone that she was in now, but she decided to take her father's grand gesture for what it was worth: an escape. She began packing the night her father had succumbed to his heart attack. No tears had since been spilt, but not because she wasn't mourning. It was because the greatest pain for a child of any age to endure was the loss of a parent, and the magnitude of said pain had yet to reach the far recesses of Amy's body. Her very best friend in the world, her Pop, was gone. No longer a presence in this world, in this apartment. And with his last gift waiting for her 2,892 miles away, there was no reason for Amy not to be gone, too.

* * *

She would never trust an airline to cargo Shakespeare, her four year-old chocolate Labrador, across the state, let alone across the country. So instead of flying, Amy packed an overnight bag with three days' worth of clothing for her and essential food and treats for Shakespeare into her Volvo and the two of them were off on their cross-country trip to their new home. With no living family or true friends to bid goodbye to, she had made the break from New York, her home, with the understanding that while the fracture still hurt like hell, clean breaks heal faster. Her canine companion preferred the windows down, and Amy willingly complied, enjoying the 80 degree weather blowing through her straight brown hair while it did the same to Shakespeare as his head hung out of the passenger side. He barked into the wind occasionally and slept more often than not. After two overnight stops and frequent pauses to stretch her legs and walk her dog, they had finally arrived in Washington State. Even in late March, the weather was instantly more dreary, more cold and wet than what she was used to. All of her life, Amy was shuttled between California and New York, where seasons came and went in their allotted time frames. But Washington was non-stop rain.

She gently pulled on Shakespeare's leash, guiding him to the ferry that would take them and her car to the house, and frowned slightly as rain fell onto her shoulders. She wore a wool cap and jacket, but had no umbrella. Shakespeare whimpered and scratched on the car door, begging to be let in for the duration of the ferry ride. She obliged, opening the door and let him scurry in, cracking her driver's side window so he could have air. Then she locked the doors and slowly walked to the edge of the ferry. The lenses of her pink-rimmed glasses were foggy and spotted with water, but she felt no urgency to really see anything, so she didn't clean them. Instead, she closed her eyes and breathed in the ominous fog that the ferry was hurtling straight for. Fog not unlike what her life had become, what it had been, for as long as she could remember.

* * *

They called it _mania_, or manic depression. Her moods came and went so quickly, and without so much as a warning for when one mood would wane and the other would wax. Even something subtle to signify the shift would be nice, like how the air tastes a little thick before the clouds roll in, or how a toddler draws in a tiny, sharp breath before they engage in an ear-splitting tantrum. One moment, Amy was content with her life, happy to have lived it for 28 years with the prospect of knowing she had at least 60 more good years ahead of her and pursued hobbies that pleased her to make the best of it. Then in the blink of an eye, she flew into a rage like a witch on a broomstick soaring through lightening-streaked skies to terrorize a village. It had frightened her father, Hollywood's most famous actor and leading man of the 80's and 90's Robbie Fowler, to no end.

But when Amy was young, Robbie insisted to company and relatives that would bear witness to his melodramatic daughter holding her breath until she passed out because he withheld sweets from her that she was just going through 'a phase'. He characterized her episodes as though it was the most normal thing in the world to have to talk his daughter back from her ledge of sanity every time something that she desired was not handed to her on a silver platter. He convinced himself, a single father on the cover of magazines with his emerald eyes, crooked smile and a dimpled chin, that his little munchkin was opportunistic, a performer, just like her old man.

Amy's mother was a tabloid tragedy. Farrah Holt was a brunette Playboy centerfold with an alcohol problem and the most beautiful, doe-like eyes to ever grace the silver screen. Before Robbie Fowler became the most sought after bachelor in all of Hollywood, he was the other half of the Robbie and Farrah love story that captured the hearts of their fans around the world. They were a power couple, never married, but an unstoppable force nonetheless. Drugs were plentiful, sex was explicit, and the fights were infamous. It was a different time, the early 1980's, where such things could be done in the privacy of their realm with little intervention from paparazzi. And then Farrah became pregnant with her and Robbie's first and only child, a baby girl that entered the world wailing endlessly, courageously.

Amy Farrah Fowler. Her cries were the siren song that Robbie would follow into the abyss, would lay down his life for, the sounds that gave his life meaning. But for Farrah, the infant's whimpers and constant need for attention were what ate away at her already limited sanity. The love the couple made had created a life, a life that took the wind out of their sails.

Six months after Amy's birth, Farrah Holt guzzled down two full bottles of red wine before firing up her fully restored 1968 Chevy Camaro, put it in drive, and topped out at 97 MPH, never hitting the breaks and only stopping because she wrapped herself around an oak tree three miles away from her Malibu home.

Robbie never went to identify the corpse, and on the day the memorial was scheduled in Farrah's hometown of Sacramento, he was in New York City, pushing baby Amy's stroller through Central Park, occasionally pausing to admire the new bloom of spring flowers with his infant daughter.

* * *

The house was breathtaking, yet intimidating. Save for a strew of beloved house pets growing up, Amy had never cared for anything in her life, and her father knew this. She was a girl of little interpersonal skills, never quite fit the outline for social convention, and was considered an outcast for such. She had maids growing up, therefore never cared to learn how to pick up after herself or cook a meal further than picking up the phone and ordering it. How was she going to maintain this goliath home? Who was going to fill all ten rooms in the house? In her car, she pulled up to the foot of the hill that the house sat on top of. It was enormous, white clapboards with dark, cedar green shutters and a black roof. Two bay windows framed a wide entrance, double doors. A wrap-around porch completed the front end of the house with a swinging bench and two rocking chairs, still propped up like they were being used every day, but the property had been vacant for over twenty years. Shakespeare panted, his heavy tail thumping against the leather seat impatiently as Amy looked down at her printed out maps.

"9996 River Road," she murmured aloud. "This is it, Shakes. Our new home." She shifted the car back into drive and the tires grudgingly made their way up the winding gravel. When she pulled in close, she saw that one of the U-Haul trucks with her furniture was still there. She was cautiously appreciative for the company, no matter that the three men were slightly daunting with their muscles and sun-kissed skin, because it meant she wouldn't be alone when she entered the house for the first time.

Grateful for the short break in the rain, Amy parked the car and hopped out before letting Shakespeare run loose. He headed straight for the lawn right in the front yard and relieved himself in a very ungentlemanly display. She turned away and walked timidly to the back where she saw the three men sitting on the back porch. All three of them jumped up when they saw her, looking slightly guilty.

"Sorry, miss. We were just waiting for the rain to stop so it didn't ruin your stuff," one of them apologized immediately. "We'll get back to work right away."

"No problem," Amy assured them. It wasn't new for people to be timid in her presence. Not only was she the daughter of the late, great Robbie Fowler and Farrah Holt, but she had made a name for herself as well. The media ate up Amy's frequent rehabilitation stints, chocking it up to another Hollywood child gone astray. Amy gave them a meek smile and turned in time to swallow the lump in her throat before it could produce tears. The only person who knew the real reason for Amy's mental problems was fresh in his grave, thousands of miles away from her. "Uh, just let me know when you guys are through," she called over her shoulder, then set off to find Shakespeare. Her Nikes were soaked, just like the bottoms of her jeans as she trudged through the mud and wet grass. She spotted her dog at the bottom of the hill, where she had been just moments earlier as she stared up at her new home. She whistled for him to come closer and then found herself truly taking in the sight before her for the first time.

To the right, she could see the gravel road that they traveled on to get to this place as it twisted and turned down hill into civilization. To the left, she saw an infinite amount of trees. Douglas fir with tall, thick barks tipped with lush green leaves. The immense population of trees was ironically suffocating, and if the sun had been shining it surely would have been blocked out by the crowded huddle surrounding the left side of Amy's property. And dead center between the road and the forest was a vast lake separating her from the little town sitting at the foot of a mountain. She drew in a deep breath, truly moved by the view. Her father had been raised here by his parents, an only child who grew up to be a big movie star. His imagination would have had to been rampant in order to pass the time here in this wilderness with no one but his two parents to entertain. She felt a small tug at the corner of her heart and swallowed. She missed her Pop with every breath she took. She adjusted her glasses, pushing them up her delicate nose as she continued to survey the world in front of her with her father's emerald green eyes.

* * *

The movers were gone and Amy wanted wine. She had tea and coffee and plenty of bottled water, but they wouldn't suffice. Now completely alone in her new home, all she could think of was the nosy men from the U-Haul truck that watched her closely, intrusively. Probably wondering if they could get away with asking for an autograph, or maybe they could witness one of the legendary icons of the Hollywood's daughter have one of her famed episodes. She had heard them whispering earlier.

"_The little spoiled brat probably drove her father to an early grave. I heard she's loaded now."_

"_My mom loved the guy. He was like Clooney."_

"_Better than Clooney."_

"_Remember how hot her mom was?"_

"_Aw, man, I beat it to her like three times a day when I was a kid." _

"_You think she's as loose as the old gal was?" _

She found herself on the front porch swing as the drizzle fell and the U-Haul truck drove down the winding road, leaving her behind for good. Shakespeare lied dutifully on his belly at Amy's feet as she swung herself. At first she was put off by the presence of the swing on the porch, but now she relished it. Something about the old squeaks and groans of the old rusty chains supporting her weight while she swung back and forth. Watching the rain fall gave her a sense of peace.

The way watching things catch fire used to bring her peace.

Before she could walk down Memory Lane, Amy shook her head forcefully and rose from her sitting position. "Okay, Shakes, man the fort. I'm headed to town for some booze." She opened the front door to lead her dog inside. "You want anything while I'm out?"

He whimpered lightly, unhappy to be left behind as Amy shut the door behind him, locked it, then walked carefully down the porch steps to her car.

* * *

The only chain store in the town of Evergreen Falls was a CVS. Amy said a silent prayer of thanks as she walked in and was embraced by the familiar smell of candy, mixed perfume samples, and bread wafting around in the drug store. She immediately grabbed a basket with wheels and dumped her purse in the front compartment, taking the wool knit cap off of her head and placing it on top of her bag, too. She stood still near the entrance and closed her eyes, running her fingers through her hair to spread the moisture from the rain evenly, and then opened her eyes to see at least four pairs of eyeballs staring right at her. Immediately she shrunk back, realizing that she had been recognized. It was hard hand to be play to be famous for your mental incapacities, but it was the hand she had dealt herself. She stared back at the crowd, all women except for one man, all old and gray and wrapped up in rain-resistant parkas. But their stares weren't of recognition more than they were of confusion and curiosity. Her cheeks suddenly reddening, Amy scolded herself for being so haughty. Of course these mountain folk didn't recognize her—they were only confused about the presence of a new young woman in town. She tightened her lips into a cordial smile, nodded at the old woman closest to her and then pushed her cart forward, in a hurry to be away from the attention. She pulled into an aisle that held the toiletries and she began to fill her cart with essentials.

"Can I help you with anything, sweetheart?"

Amy's eyes snapped up from their downward position and met with frail older woman at least six inches shorter than her. She tried not to look too startled by the woman's small stature. "No, thanks. Just stocking up."

"Okay, let me know if you need help finding anything. I'm Rosey."

"Oh, okay, Rosey. I'm Amy…" but she trailed off for Rosey, bless her heart, was more than likely hard of hearing, as she had already begun to walk away from Amy and her cart. Moving in and out of different aisles, Amy rolled into the one marked 'Office Supplies'. She was joined shortly after by another young woman around her age. They both reached at the same time for the last notebook left on the shelf.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Amy muttered, pulling her hand back to her body.

"My apologies," the blonde woman said at the same time, smiling sheepishly. "You can take it."

"No, that's okay," Amy offered. "Go ahead."

"It's alright, I've got plenty back home. Take it." She pressed her glossy pink lips together and her head tilted to the left, studying Amy closely, who felt herself begin to shrink under the scrutiny again. "You look familiar. You from around here?"

It was the most cliché and common phrase the young woman could have said and Amy found herself smiling at the fact. Of course she wasn't from around here. Her quick-witted, New York upbringing threatened to surface, but she swallowed it down, just like every other emotion inside of her that had been medicated into submission for the last ten years, and produced a friendly smile for the blonde. "No, I'm new to town. I'm Amy."

"Nice to meet you," the blonde said, her voice slightly husky, but not as deep as Amy's own husky tenor. "I'm Penelope." She picked up the notebook of college-ruled paper and extended it to Amy. "Here." When Amy took it, Penelope smiled. "See ya, Amy." And with that, she turned on her heels and walked down the aisle, turning to the left with her own cart and out of Amy's view.

Sighing, she turned her cart around and headed straight for the aisle with the cheap wine bottles.

* * *

Within the hour, Amy was drunk. She hadn't unpacked a damn thing except for her store-bought wine, her notebook, and a mechanical pencil, all items she had purchased at the CVS in town. She sat on her favorite arm chair that was crudely placed halfway between the kitchen and the hallway instead of the living room like she had requested of the movers. She had not even walked upstairs yet and could only hope that her mattress was at least in a bedroom and not propped up inside of her bath tub or something. Sighing deeply, she leaned back in her chair and scribbled on the notebook. She wrote the date and her name at the top left corner of the page as if she were taking a test, then stared at the blank paper. She was wholly grateful for Penelope's kind act of surrendering the last notebook on the shelf, because Amy was out of paper to write on.

For as long as she could remember, Amy was a writer. Maybe not an extraordinary one, but an imaginative one. She wrote scripts for her father to read, which he did faithfully. When she was eight, she created a play called _The Sonovabitch from Texas, _and he had declared it as his favorite, and her best yet. Her main character, Twister Midland, had a twangy accent that was implied, not explained, but Robbie didn't disappoint. He tied a handkerchief around his neck and pretended to throw back shots of whiskey to appease his daughter while engaging in imaginary gun fights with her stuffed animals.

To this day, drunk or sober, sad or happy, Amy wrote plays. She wrote of fairytale endings and mass murders and torrid affairs and life lessons for kids. Crime thrillers and ghost stories and soap opera scripts. But who would read her scripts now? She took a long swig from her nearly empty bottle of white wine and waited for the tears that never arrived, for the lullaby of the alcohol had carried her to darkness long before her emotions could.

When she awoke, her tongue was thick, her breath was sour, and her mind was filled to the brim with murk and mud. But it wasn't morning yet, or at least, the sun had yet to come up. She shivered once; even though she had turned the heat on when she first walked into the house, either it wasn't working properly or the house was just so big that it had yet to warm completely. She sat up slowly, still dizzy from all of the wine, and took in her surroundings. Shakespeare was passed out on his side, snoring deeply beneath his favorite doggy blanket that Amy made sure to bring with them in their road trip to Washington.

* * *

The last ten years of Amy's life were a whirlwind of sedation. Years of specialists and psychologists, tranquilizing drugs and rehabilitation. She was accepted into Yale her senior year of high school but Amy never went off to college because of the incident. Instead, she was tutored by teaching assistants hired by her father from New York University, but only to appease her insatiable thirst for knowledge. Never did her coursework go towards a college degree, and she was never graded on any papers she wrote. But she wrote a lot, when she was awarded the privilege of wielding a sharp object, like a pen. Her father and her tutors beseeched her to use her laptop, or a typewriter, but nothing felt better than the scratch of a pen or a pencil on the smooth surface of loose-leaf paper. She couldn't be swayed otherwise.

So in order to get access to her precious pens and paper, she would behave. Take her meds instead of spitting them out, stopped calling her nurse a _fat ass _through her sloppy tears that she had no idea how they came about in the first place. She stopped trying to light her bedding on fire while she still lied beneath the blankets.

And when those moments of peace lasted longer than a few hours, Amy was able to write. She wrote about characters escaping to faraway lands, places where their fathers didn't hole them up in dungeons because they were ashamed of their crazy daughters.

Robbie Fowler was never ashamed of his daughter, and Amy knew this. But she was crazy. She knew this as well. A lesser man of such rich means would have thrown his daughter in a loony bin and tossed the keys, never to look back. And why shouldn't he? He had an amazing career and more money than he knew what to do with. But instead, he dedicated the last ten years of his life to making Amy comfortable, keeping her head above water so that one day she could become a functioning member of society.

"I'll never blame you, munchkin," he cried softly at her bedside once when he thought she was sleeping. She suffered from great smoke inhalation after starting a fire in Robbie's home in the Hamptons. "You were born this way, and I blame myself. _I'm _the one who picked your mother. You didn't ask for her genes to be passed down to you."

* * *

Amy stood at the mouth of the forest that loomed in her backyard. If she ventured too far in, there would be no guarantee she could make her way back. Having left Shakespeare inside of the house, she would have no sniffing nose to guide her home. That cursed, hollow shell of home with her belongings that barely filled one room. Had her father left this place for her in cruelty? Was this his way of payback after all the pain she had put him through? She couldn't stand another moment alone with her alcohol and writer's block. So dressed in jeans, a black, long-sleeved thermal shirt and her trusty wool cap, she tucked her faithful notebook beneath her arm and pocketed a mechanical pencil then set out. She looked over her shoulder and could still hear her faithful companion's howls of anger and betrayal at being left behind; Shakespeare was always welcome on her adventures. But she couldn't risk his safety if they were to encounter a mountain lion or bear, so she left him plenty of food and water and called her lawyer Valencia Hutchins back in New York to let her know that she was going for a hike, and if she hadn't called by nightfall to check in, send someone for her dog.

"You're so morbid, Amy," Valencia chuckled, but agreed. She knew she was the only person that Amy had come to trust, the only person that wasn't Robbie Fowler. Now that he was gone, Valencia was the only contact Amy had in her cell phone.

She thought of all the horror movies she had seen that started out in the exact situation she was putting herself in, but the pull of the forest, the loveliness of the silence and tranquility that it promised, was enough to convince her to put one foot in front of the other and follow the badly beaten trail. She trekked for a few hundred yards, touching the bark, feeling the moss under her skin but never wiping it away. She brought her fingers to her nose and inhaled. A subtle spray of water coated her face and she imagined it was due to the fact that the sky had torn open and let the rain fall. The lush leaves of the trees above kept the downpour at bay for now as she continued on. It was getting darker, but not colder. There was no wind at all, no sound except for her own ragged breathing.

She began to think maybe she had come too far and it was time to go back. Maybe drinking all day wasn't such a bad idea, hell, it was what she did every day. What she never did, though, was walk into an uncharted forest after arriving in a town she had never been to in her life, with nothing on her but a paper and a pencil. She hadn't even thought to bring her cell phone, sure that the reception would be shitty in the wilderness.

"Stupid!" she cursed aloud, the tears again threatening to fall. Just as she had really thought that maybe this time she would cry, just as the real feelings of abandonment and loneliness and the loss of her father really hit home, Amy stepped into a clearing.

And she wasn't alone anymore.


	2. The Coliseum

**A/N: I disappeared! I'm sorry! But life has gotten a little less crazy and I don't foresee another abrupt disappearance again. Thank you so much for your reviews! :'] That's a tear of joy. Enjoy!**

**I humbly dedicate this chapter to my friend Stephanie. :]**

* * *

She had never seen anything like it before.

Standing at the top of the slanted clearing in the middle of the forest, Amy saw a crowd of people sitting on fallen tree barks with their backs to her. They were all gravely silent, slightly leaning forward in an act of rapt attention. Right in front of the crowd, the forest floor slightly descended. A makeshift stage that was low to the ground and made of wood was in the epicenter of the clearing, causing the entire set up to look like an amphitheater. The sides of the stage were framed by trees that acted as pillars to hold up a vaulted roof covered in vines and leaves and the trees were brilliantly illuminated by white, twinkling LED lights that reminded Amy of Christmas. Her brows furrowed while her eyes adjusted to the dimly lit atmosphere. Above the tall canopies of the trees, the sun was completely hidden by the clouds and the forest was so dark Amy could have sworn it was night. She narrowed her eyes as she studied the stage where a woman was in the middle of reciting a monologue. There was one lone spotlight that shone down on her from the top of the stage. Amy could hear her words clearly but could not see her face, only the blonde wavy locks that sat on her shoulders as she looked down at her feet. She wore a scarlet colored dress that wrapped snugly around her slim body. Her hands were hidden behind her back as she spoke clearly, her voice wavering as if on the verge of tears.

"'_There is nothing better than this_,' he said, and I worried he was right. I worried that once something had entered you, it would never leave—he would plant himself inside me and grow and grow until I was nothing but him."

Amy found herself walking closer to the crowd, still unnoticed by anyone since they were all facing the stage. She took a seat in the very back on a damp log and rested her spiral notebook on her lap, immediately pressing on the eraser end of her mechanical pencil to make the lead appear and poised her hand over the paper. Not a breath, nor a chirp of wildlife could be heard as the woman on stage lifted her face infinitesimally, enough for the crowd to get a view of her breathtaking emerald eyes shining with tears in the spotlight as she concluded her monologue.

"…His touch had always been too powerful a thing. His touch was something I assumed I'd find in other men, but never did." *

Realization hit Amy like a crashing wave as she recognized the woman that bowed slightly at the waist while the crowd applauded as Penelope, the young lady she had met in town yesterday afternoon. When she stood straight, Amy could see the dramatic shadowy dust of her eye makeup and the gloss of her pink lips as she drank in the feedback from her audience, lapping it up like a kitten with her saucer of milk, before walking gracefully down the steps of the stage. Penelope was clearly a performer. Soon, the air turned social as all of the people, a group of about twenty Amy quickly estimated, in the crowd turned towards another and began to chat idly. The voices sounded like a dull roar in her ears as she surveyed the odd sight before her. Had she stumbled upon some sort of secret acting company? Were these auditions for some sort of play? Her thoughts were distracted by the abrupt, yet unmistakable feeling of eyes on her.

She craned her neck around the crowd, some of whom began to stand up, but could not see anyone who had yet noticed her attendance. The audience was filled with men and women of all types of ages, races, and sizes. The only point of conformity was that they were all dressed for a special occasion; the women all donned solid colored dresses and dripped with lavish jewelry, and the men were all sporting slacks and dress shirts with ties. The sight of the crowd's fancy evening attire in the middle of a forest both fascinated and frightened Amy at the same time. She remained seated, severely underdressed in her hiking boots, skinny jeans, and thermal shirt, feeling slightly uneasy at the nagging sensation that she was still being watched, and a little shaky as a result from her near breakdown in the forest seconds before she came across this sight. She directed her attention back to the stage as a man and a woman commanded the crowd's consideration with a dialogue from _Romeo and Juliet_. Amy propped her elbow up on her knee and leaned forward, cupping her chin with her hand.

For a little while, she allowed herself to forget she was mourning her dead father, that she was craving the taste of alcohol, that she was all alone in this great big world, and silently mouthed the lines of Juliet Capulet as the tiny woman on stage recited the famous balcony scene.

* * *

_Robbie Fowler was returning home from a restaurant opening one summer evening while vacationing in the Hamptons with his daughter. He had left 17 year-old Amy alone on her insistence that she was too big for a babysitter. At 1:00 AM, Robbie's private town car dropped him at the curb, and as soon as his Dolce & Gabana leather loafers hit the asphalt, he smelled something burning. But the peculiar smell was quickly forgotten, being that when he looked up, his rail thin daughter was beaming up at him from the stone steps at the entrance of the house. _

_"Amy?" _

_"Pop." _

_He visibly swallowed hard, as if he were trying to suppress a lump in his throat. "What…what happened to your nightgown?" Behind her, smoke was billowing out of the wide open front door, and the flames were high, consuming the foyer of the house. _

_"I can't remember. I think I started a fire. The bottom of my gown got caught in the flames." She held up the tattered ends of the skirt that had once reached her ankles, but now barely covered her thighs. "But don't worry, I'm fine. I only burned the skin of my palms as I patted the fire off of me." She pushed her arms up and held her hands out to Robbie, proudly displaying the flayed skin. Then she wheezed out a long, sputtering cough, winded after speaking._

_Robbie already had his cellular phone in his hand and had begun to dial 9-1-1 by the time she quit talking, nodding slowly at her. "Okay, baby. I'm glad you're fine. Come stand by me while I call the fire department." He placed the phone to his ear with one hand and motioned with his other for Amy to come to him, which she did. She wobbled a little and began to cough again as she walked over to Robbie and protectively wrapped both of her arms around his waist, leaning her head on his chest as he held her tight and gave the emergency dispatch his address. She was so glad he was finally home._

_And then Amy felt something wet hit her cheek, a droplet of water rolling down her face until it touched the corner of her mouth. She slipped out her tongue to taste it. Salty, like tears. She didn't feel like weeping, in fact, she felt elated. Like today was a hard one to beat. She was about to touch her eyes when she heard her dad sniffle, shortly followed by the feel of his racking sobs that made his body tremble. She looked up meekly and watched just in time for another tear to roll off of Robbie Fowler's chiseled, handsome face and land on hers._

* * *

It took two hours for Amy to finally succumb to the elements. She had regretted not bringing a jacket, figuring earlier she would only be walking around for less than an hour. She wrapped her arms around her body, fruitlessly attempting to keep the chill away, but the dampness of the log had seeped into her jeans, the atmosphere had begun to grow even darker, and eventually her teeth began to chatter. She was entranced by the line of different people who had taken turns on stage, reciting soliloquies and enacting famous plays or monologues from novels and movies. The whole atmosphere was extremely romantic, watching the performances under the twinkling lights, and Amy found herself longing for the passion and drive that each person on stage radiated. It reminded her of the days she would watch her father on screen. He transformed, just like the strangers before her. She was sad to see that the performances had begun to wind down and the crowd was beginning to disperse.

Still seated way in the back and out of sight, Amy stood up and stretched her back. She was torn between pursuing a conversation with Penelope who was still standing amongst the crowd or retreating back to the forest before night fell. On one hand, she had been fascinated by the performances and wanted to learn more about these people, but when the thought of wandering around the forest with no sunlight to guide her home overpowered her desire to stay, Amy sighed deeply and turned to slink back into the trees.

"You know every word of every Shakespearean play that was performed here tonight."

A tingle crawled down her spine slowly, like cold, tiny fingers as a dark shadow emerged from the tree line and stepped in front of her. She gasped and dropped her notebook to the wet grass. "What?" Her eyes struggled to focus on the shadow until it came closer and was finally touched by the dim light. It was a tall, lean man with icy blue eyes, neatly combed raven black hair with a side part, and smooth skin so shockingly pale he looked like a human-sized porcelain doll. He wore black slacks and a black long-sleeved dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. The only contrast to his dark ensemble was his straight skinny tie that was scarlet in color. He walked towards her at a casual pace, both of his hands tucked into his pockets. Amy quickly flipped through her mental catalog to find a word that would describe the man before her: _breathtaking_. Astonishing or awe-inspiring in quality, so as to take one's breath away.

"I said, you know every word of every Shakespearean play. I watched you mouth every line." The man finally stopped merely three feet in front of her, his long neck angled so that he could look down at her. He was at least a head and a half taller than her, his wide shoulders and lofty stature adding to his shocking presence. Suddenly he looked down at their feet and bent at the knees to retrieve Amy's notebook. She looked down as he grabbed it then rose slowly, his eyes so blue they resembled steel, watching her the entire time.

It was a moment before Amy quit gawking and broke eye contact with the man, reaching for her notebook that he was holding out for her to take. He seemed as though he was in no hurry, perfectly capable of waiting for her to get her bearings. "Yeah, I know my Shakespeare," she said softly. She pulled the notebook from the man's hand and clutched it to her body like a school girl. He jammed his hands back into his pockets and made no move to step out of Amy's way. She had forgotten what she was doing the second before he walked out of the trees. _Did he just say he was watching me?_ she suddenly thought, biting her lower lip. "Sorry, I was just going."

"Why?" he asked, his voice sounding genuinely disappointed. "We're having an after party. You should join."

"I'm sorry?" Amy felt like an idiot. She heard what he said, his voice was extremely clear and proper with a hint of a twang in his accent, but clear nonetheless. She was just shocked by his invite as much as she was shocked that he was still standing there speaking to her. That he had just admitted to watching her. Men like that never took the time to talk to Amy let alone show any interest in what her mouth was doing.

"I _said_," the man chuckled at the prospect of repeating himself again. His slight lisp caused Amy's heart to skip a beat. "We're having an after party. You should join." He waited a beat before adding, "My name is Sheldon. Sheldon Cooper." Another moment of complete silence went by as he plastered an easy-going grin on his face and held his hand out for Amy to shake. Her eyes lingered on his palm before she took it and shook gently. His hands were deliciously warm, soft and dry. Sheldon kept his hand in hers, and though Amy couldn't meet his eyes and stared dumbly at the ground, she could almost feel his gaze like a trail of heat ravishing her skin. "What's your name?"

Thoroughly embarrassed that Sheldon's tone had took on an almost patronizing quality, as though he was guiding a child through a conversation, she lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. Just because she had not had significant human contact in days didn't mean she should act like a feral child stepping into civility for the first time. She mentally scolded herself to get a grip, then breathed in deeply. Exhaling, she peered at Sheldon through her glasses. "Amy Farrah Fowler. It's nice to meet you, Sheldon Cooper."

Sheldon smiled with a closed mouth, almost as though he was suppressing a laugh, but not at her expense. "That's quite a name. It's nice to meet you, too, Amy." He finally let go of her hand, and she felt the heat leave her body, almost regretting losing the feel of his skin against hers. "You seemed to have enjoyed yourself tonight. Do you like the theater?"

"I…" Amy turned and looked over her shoulder. She noticed that people had finally turned around and were now watching her exchange with Sheldon with very curious eyes. She turned back around to face him. "I've never been to the theater. But I enjoyed the performances tonight. Are these people in an acting company?"

"Sort of," Sheldon answered with a shrug. "Nothing official. It's just something we do for fun in the privacy of our stage, very clandestine. You've never been to the theater yet you're a fan of so many playwrights?" She noticed how he said _'we'_ but hadn't seen Sheldon take the stage all night.

"I read," Amy answered robotically, suddenly fearful of revealing any indication that she wasn't allowed in crowded theaters because of the anxiety it triggered. "A lot. I read a lot of plays."

"Then come with us," Sheldon offered again, nodding in the direction of the stage and the crowd of performers mixed in with the audience. "You'll fit right in."

This last sentence gave Amy a chill that rolled from her head to her toes. Sheldon seemed so sure of his last statement, that she would _fit right in_. It wasn't a guess. It was a certainty. He must have mistaken her trembling for a reaction to the sudden wind that had begun to pick up. "The party is indoors. We should go before it gets any colder."

"I appreciate the invite," she declined. "But I really need to get going. I literally stumbled upon this clearing with no idea how I got here. I'm new to Washington, you see. And if I don't head home now, I'll never find my way back."

Sheldon considered her explanation for a moment before he looked over his own shoulder and peered into the woods. The pitch black shadows between the tall trees nearly gave Amy a heart attack. She'd never find her way back in that! And Sheldon seemed to know it. He turned back to her and shook his head. "Amy, I was raised in Texas. I'm a southern gentleman, the product of my mother's raising. If word were to get back down south to old Mary Cooper that her youngest son allowed a lady to wander around in the dark without offering her hospitality before escorting her home, she'd come all the way up here to ring my neck." He had one hand in his pocket, and the other was waving between them as he spoke. She bit back a grin despite herself as he continued. "You want to be responsible for my neck being wrung?"

"No," Amy muttered beneath her breath, her cheeks reddening by the second.

"Good. Now follow me. Let's get you warm and fed, then I'll take you home myself." He then held out his hand again, but not for her to shake. Instead, he bent his arm at the elbow and offered it to her. Amy had seen enough movies to understand that she was expected to loop her arm with his, and before she could stop herself, that's just what she did. Now in such close proximity with the stranger named Sheldon, she could smell a faint hint of baby powder mixed with some sort of earthy scent. Her heartbeat sped up as Sheldon led them down the clearing in between the fallen tree bark that served as audience seats, and towards the crowd of people that had quieted significantly to watch Amy and him approach. "Guys," Sheldon greeted them warmly. "This is Amy Farrah Fowler." He looked down at her for dramatic effect. "She'll be joining us for our post-performance festivities."

Amy studied the feet of the crowd before looking up shyly and displayed a weak smile. All of the men nodded at her warmly and a few of the women waved and hollered a few "Hello, Amy!"'s. She waved back sheepishly. "Hi, everybody." She made eye contact with several people, especially those who looked close to her in age, and waited for any indication that they recognized her as Robbie Fowler's daughter. But when no recognition was found, she looked up at Sheldon who was smiling kindly at her. No longer feeling the effects of the cold due to the full-body blush she was sporting, she slowly removed her arm from his as a few people approached her.

"Howard Wolowitz," a man short in stature held out his hand for Amy to take. His other hand was held by a tiny blonde woman, and Amy recognized them immediately as the couple who performed _Romeo and Juliet_.

"Hi," Amy shook his hand and then took the woman's, who introduced herself as Howard' wife Bernadette. "You guys were amazing up there."

They thanked her for her compliment while others came to introduce themselves. Soon, Amy had acquainted herself with well over half of the guests, mostly performers, and complimented them all on their acts, as well as made small talk and she found herself becoming slightly dizzy. She had not interacted with so many people as such in years. And strangely, she felt no hint of anxiety that would hamper her ability to mingle. Finally, a dark man from India who introduced himself to Amy as Rajesh and earlier in the evening had performed a monologue from an old black and white movie she recognized, _A Bucket of Blood, _hollered for everyone to follow him to the party.

"You coming, Amy?" Bernadette asked in a sweet, high-pitched voice that Amy found oddly endearing. She and Howard held back as they waited for Amy to walk with them towards the forest.

"Yeah," she replied and started towards them, but stopped suddenly, feeling as though she was forgetting something. She turned in a circle and didn't realize what she was looking for until her eyes landed on him. She saw Sheldon standing at the staircase near the stage, talking animatedly with a blonde woman in a scarlet dress. His eyebrows were raised in what looked like exasperation and condescension as he looked down at the woman whose back was to Amy. Her arms were flailing and Amy could tell even without hearing their conversation that they were clearly engaged in a fight. She was about to turn around and join Howard and Bernadette but froze when Sheldon's eyes flitted to hers, their gazes making contact from yards away. Immediately, his expression softened and he nodded at her, giving her a silent _go on_. When he nodded, the blonde woman whirled around and her emerald eyes blazed almost hatefully as she locked eyes with Amy. The woman, she realized quickly, was Penelope. And she did not look pleased. Amy looked down and away, then pivoted to face Bernadette. "Alright, let's go."

* * *

Amy, Howard and Bernadette treaded carefully over thick tree roots and high, lush grass in virtual darkness. The only light was the yellow smears of lanterns in the distance held by the rest of the crowd ahead of them. Amy's arms flailed out every few seconds to grab onto her hiking partners, which was humiliating. She kept murmuring apologies every time she grabbed Bernadette to steady herself.

"It's okay, Amy," Bernadette laughed, her mousy voice chiming. "We walk this path all the time. Don't worry, we're almost there."

"Where exactly are we going?" Amy inquired, her eyes squinting in the darkness. She hoped wherever the destination, there would be plenty of wine.

"The Coliseum," Howard answered with a sly grin. He squeezed Bernadette's hand as they exchanged a meaningful look.

Amy was about to ask him to clarify when they finally broke out of the trees and approached a narrow babbling brook. She watched the couple detach hands and walk in single file line across large stones. Amy followed close behind, crossing the water and hiking up a small hill before they finally emerged from the woods and into civilization. She could see the crowd ahead of them advance on the lawn of a large manor painted entirely white. It had four massive columns that spanned the height of the three floors of the mansion which looked like a plantation owner's home right out of the 19th century portrait. Amy gasped and Howard turned around to face her. "Come on!" he urged, waving her forward. Taking a few hesitant steps towards him, she marveled openly at the sight. Torches were lit and hoisted at the front center of the house, creating a brilliant light that spilled onto the grass and reached the tree line. Amy's eyes roamed upwards until it reached the tip of the roof before meeting the night sky. It was unexpectedly clear, the moon was full, and the atmosphere up above was a black blanket with purple swirls and dotted with twinkling stars.

"What is this?" Amy asked in amazement.

"Welcome to my home," a voice behind her whispered. She jumped and let out a tiny yelp before looking over her shoulder, coming face to face with Sheldon, who had somehow managed to catch up quickly despite having been left behind in the woods with Penelope. He grinned down at her with his signature smile. "Shall we?"

Amy nodded dumbly, and finally managed to get her legs to work as the four of them crossed the lawn and made their way to the house. Howard pulled his bride closer to him and wrapped an arm around her. They walked up the porch steps and disappeared into the open doors of the house.

Amy risked a glance at Sheldon, who looked right back at her before gesturing with his arms for her to walk up the steps ahead of him. She nodded gratefully and swallowed hard, taking point as they entered the house. She suddenly thought of Penelope and wondered where she was. Before she could open her mouth to her ask, Sheldon had placed his large hand on the small of her back and guided her into a large ballroom with a hanging chandelier, oriental rugs, and a large fireplace already burning with a roaring fire. The ballroom was filled with the crowd from the woods who were manning the bar and scavenging the spread of food on the east wall of the room. "Would you like something to drink?" Sheldon asked her. Amy nodded and let the question about Penelope's whereabouts die on her tongue.

* * *

"Come now, Amy. What did you really think of Raj's monologue?" a woman with spiral curls wrapped in a loose bun and a yellow gown eyed Amy as she sipped from her glass of champagne.

"I thought it was very moving," Amy answered honestly, giving Rajesh, or Raj as he insisted she call him, a smile. "Walter Paisley has been depicted by Dick Miller in several films since the 1950's, in different character situations of course, but not so vulnerable and simple as in _A Bucket of Blood_. And Raj portrayed him brilliantly tonight."

"It was fucking creepy, is what I think you mean," Howard muttered as a few people laughed.

"Hey!" Raj whined in a mock tone, pretending to be hurt.

"Yes," Amy said once the laughter of the crowd died down. "Extremely creepy. But there's something sort of intriguing about how far a human can go to be accepted by their peers, am I right?" The majority of the crowd nodded, and Amy suddenly reddened. She was surprised by her loquaciousness. Usually crowds frightened her, aggravated her mood. Maybe it was the wine that kept being offered to her all night, but she found herself extremely relaxed around these people.

"Being that I'm from India and am new to the U.S., I could relate completely to Walter," Raj explained as everyone listened. "Although I don't see myself encasing my murder victims in clay and plaster to impress my peers, I can understand his overwhelming need to fit in." The crowd laughed and Amy joined in.

"See?" Howard shook his head. "Creepy."

Amy had lost track of time. Her eyes had begun to droop and burned mildly, though, and she realized it was probably well after midnight. She thought of Shakespeare at home all alone, and realized she hadn't made her promised check-in call to Valencia back in New York. Sighing, Amy looked around the crowd and scanned it for Sheldon. She lowered her mouth Bernadette's ear, who had stood by her most of the night, and asked her if she knew where their host was.

"There, on the front porch, with Penelope." Bernadette pointed straight ahead. Above the plush couch a few feet in front of them was a large window, the drapes pushed open and provided an amazing view of the lake beside Sheldon's home. And sure enough, out on the front porch, Sheldon stood, leaning against a pillar as Penelope waved her arms madly and mouthed angrily at him. Amy had wondered why, after getting Amy her first glass of wine, Sheldon had virtually disappeared for the rest of the night. This was probably why. Though, after discussing plays and film with the other guests, she hardly had the chance to miss him.

"I'm going to ask him to take me home, now," Amy said, setting down her glass of wine. "It was great to meet you all. Thank you for having me."

"Amy, you must come back soon," Raj pleaded, placing a hand on her shoulder. The crowd behind him murmured in agreement.

"I'll try," Amy promised. She was having a good night tonight. There was no telling which way the pendulum of her mood would swing tomorrow. "Goodnight." She was caught by surprise as Bernadette wrapped her in a quick hug. Blushing, Amy waved at the performers before escaping into the foyer of the mansion and stood by the front door for a moment. Would it be intrusive to just barge onto the porch and demand Sheldon take her home? Her curiosity getting the best of her, she quietly turned the knob and pulled the door open a fraction. She couldn't make out the words due to the racket still being made by the other house guests in the ballroom. Eavesdropping wasn't exactly an admirable trait, so Amy bit the bullet and yanked the door all the way open. When she closed it behind her, she looked left and then right, then found the pair talking in harsh whispers. Amy waited a beat before clearing her throat, which earned a startled glance from Sheldon and a murderous glare from Penelope. "Sheldon? Would it be alright for you to take me home now?"

It was a few seconds before Sheldon finally nodded at her. "It would be my pleasure, Amy." He walked past Penelope, who grabbed his arm roughly.

"This isn't over," the blonde warned him.

"Kindly release your hold on me, Penny," Sheldon said tiredly, but not even Amy could miss the ringing of warning in his order. "And help yourself to the food and drinks inside." Without waiting for her to heed his request, he yanked his arm from the blonde's grasp, then turned to face Amy again. "Shall we, Amy?"

Penelope's plump lips dropped into an _'O' _of surprise before she stomped around Sheldon, passing Amy without so much as a nod in her direction. She disappeared inside and slammed the door forcefully behind her. The mystery of if Penelope recognized Amy from the CVS would not be answered tonight, she realized, then returned her attention to Sheldon who looked completely unaffected by the display. "Was this a bad time?"

"Of course not. I promised I would take you home." He took a few steps towards her before stopping, lowering his eyes to her chest. "What's that?" he asked, pointing at her.

Amy looked down in confusion, wondering why he was being so bold as to point at her breasts, but realized that she was still clutching her notebook. "Oh," she sheepishly. "It's just a stupid notebook."

"Why is it stupid?" Sheldon's eyes bore down on hers with genuine curiosity. It was quite unnerving.

"I like to write, but this one is blank."

"Ah, a writer," Sheldon said thoughtfully. "Are you published?"

"No," she answered with a laugh, shaking her head and lowering her eyes. "I just write silly stuff. Scripts, mostly. Nothing that I ever let anyone read." _Anyone but my father. _

"Interesting," Sheldon mused. "Are you any good, Amy?"

"No," Amy repeated. She avoided Sheldon's eyes as she looked through the open window into the ballroom and saw the crowd had begun to simmer down. Some women were gathered in a corner, talking conspiratorially with one another like a gossipy high school clique, and some men had gathered around a table playing cards. Howard and Bernadette were engaged in an animated conversation with Rajesh beside the fire. Other people had not so conspicuously disappeared into other rooms upstairs for some private time. Penelope was nowhere to be seen.

"How do you know if you're any good if you don't let anyone read your work?"

"I…" Amy was unsure how to answer. "I'm just not."

"You're a puzzle, Amy," Sheldon remarked.

"I'm not really that interesting."

"I disagree."

"Why is that?" she challenged, boldly meeting Sheldon's cobalt eyes.

"I have a ballroom full of people who would disagree. Don't question me." His stern twang startled Amy, and she watched in fascination as his eyes twinkled in amusement. "You ready to go?"

Amy swallowed hard and then nodded. "Yes. I had fun meeting everyone. Thanks for a great night."

"Oh, the night's not over yet, Amy Farrah Fowler." He took her hand and pulled slightly, walking down the porch steps and practically dragged her with him.

"What?" she asked, slightly alarmed. She allowed herself to be pulled by Sheldon around the side of his massive home, trudging through the damp grass, and saw a tall stable come into view. He walked towards the building at a steady pace, his skin shining in the moonlight. A wind blew past, causing his combed bangs to ruffle and fall over his brow.

"I'm glad you had fun with my friends. You were a hit. I watched you flutter around like a butterfly all night. But if it's alright with you, I'd like to get to you know myself now." They stopped at the entrance of the stables and Amy was acutely aware that he still was holding her hand. "You ever ride?"

"Excuse me?" Amy was caught off-guard by his question, but it quickly made sense when she heard the excited neighing of horses inside the stable. "No, no I don't ride horses."

"I do," Sheldon said simply. "Come on. I'll teach you. It'll be fun."

"You don't understand," her voice was scratchy, worried. "I'm from New York."

Sheldon laughed and shook his head. "Good to know."

"I really need to get home," Amy argued, staring at the closed stable door with wary eyes. Another _neigh _sounded from inside, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

"I know." Sheldon nodded and placed his hands on his hips. "This is a lot faster than walking." His lips parted slightly as he looked down at Amy, studying her uneasy expression. "Trust me."

"Trust you?" Amy breathed. "I don't even know you." She shut her mouth quickly, embarrassed by her brash tone.

"There's no time like the present to get to know each other, though. Wouldn't you agree?" His eyes remained wide, feigning innocence, but challenging her all the same. Amy had a feeling that she should allow herself to get to know Sheldon, unwilling to accept what the alternative may be. He drew her in like a magnet, and she could not remember the last time, if ever, she had been interested in getting to know anyone. At the same time, the people she met tonight were remarkable. Relatable. She sincerely wanted to return, never having been around so many people that she could talk to about shared interests. How could she if she didn't allow herself to know Sheldon, the man who seemed to be the ringleader of it all?

Which made tonight all the more insane. Who was this man? Why had he taken to her so quickly? Questions she knew wouldn't be answered if she didn't follow him into that stable. She looked down at his hand that was extended to her for what seemed like the tenth time that night. But when she put her hand in his this time, it felt different. It felt binding. She imagined a silk ribbon twirling itself around their clamped hands before disappearing. An invisible tether. She blinked forcefully before looking up and meeting his eyes.

"Okay," she finally relented, then allowed Sheldon to pull her into the darkness of the stable until she could no longer see the moon.

* * *

"_Pop," Amy whined like a child, writhing in her sheets. She struggled against the soft cuffs that binded her to the rails of the hospital bed. "Pop, help me!" _

_Robbie Fowler bit back tears as he watched his daughter cry and beg for his help. "I can't, munchkin," he said, then stopped himself. His daughter was almost 18 years-old now. Part of her problem was that he had ignored the fact that she was not a child anymore for years, ignored the signs that pointed out she was unwell, signs that echoed the destructive behavior of Farrah Holt. It was time for Amy to grow up. It was time for the both of them to grow up. "Amy, you're sick."_

"No!_" Amy bellowed, her glasses flying off of her face as she tossed her head back and forth. One of the nurses was bravely holding Amy down by the shoulders, wearing Styrofoam taped to her forearms to ward off any bite attacks. "I'll never do it again, Pop, I swear!" _

"_Amy, do you even know what you did?" The vacant look in Amy's eyes broke Robbie's heart. The doctors had diagnosed her with severe bipolar affective disorder, bordering on manic-depressive schizophrenia. When she set fire to objects and to her home, chances were Amy didn't know she was doing it. She would face a life full of rehabilitation and therapy, but would never fully recover unless she remained medicated. "Amy, you could have killed yourself or someone else. You need help. I will be here with you, every step of the way, baby, I swear." _

"_Let me die," Amy whimpered, her throat hoarse from screaming. "I'm alone. I'll always be alone."_

* * *

* Penelope's monologue was composed of direct quotes from the _amazing_ novel "The Adults" by Alison Espach.


	3. Transatlanticism

**A/N: You guys are amazing. Thank you so much for your kind reviews. I love how well you're receiving a darker, twistier Amy. I will keep trying to update as frequently as I can, being that the fall semester is coming up next week. I have some big plans for this fic, so stay tuned!**

**A few warnings before I continue: The small Washington town that I moved Amy to is just a figment of my imagination. But, obviously, I have incorporated the very real topic of mental illness. While I'm not a doctor, I will use some medical terminology. I am, after all, just a mere writer, but have had some experience in my life with knowing a little bit about depression and its very real consequences. So please don't observe my story as insensitive or uninformed. It's just fiction! **

**One last side note: You should totally listen to "Transatlanticism" by Death Cab for Cutie when you read this chapter. Perhaps you will be as moved as I was when I wrote the Sheldon and Amy scenes. ;] Enjoy!**

* * *

"Close your eyes," Sheldon whispered after he closed the stable doors behind them, shutting out the moonlight.

"I can't see anything, it's too dark in here. I don't understand why I have to close my eyes." Amy was a bad sport, and she knew it. Her tone was flat and skeptical, calculating. She had always been that way, never easy to excite, very self-sufficient. Even as a child, it took her father many tries to rouse joy or a sense of adventure out of Amy. Unless, of course, she was misbehaving or having an _episode_.

But her company seemed undeterred. He led her into what she could only guess was the center of the giant stable, only to detach his hand from hers and move away. "Just do it, please," he requested calmly, but now from behind her. She looked over her shoulder, squinting desperately, but still saw nothing but blackness.

"Okay," she relented, finally letting her eyelids rest. "They're closed." Seconds later, Amy could hear the unmistakable noise of a match head scraping across a surface, then the whisper of a flame coming to life. She lifted her chin in the direction of the noise and felt her heart thump a little faster. Sheldon couldn't possibly know it, but the first few milliseconds of the birth of fire were like the opening chords of a symphony to Amy. Her limbs stiffened and she bit her tongue.

"What's the scariest thing you've ever done?"

The question momentarily threw her. "What?"

Sheldon was walking closer to her, and even with her eyes closed she could feel it. Now she was afraid to open them. She heard scuffling to her right and the breathy grunt of a large beast. Then Sheldon spoke again. "What's the scariest thing you've ever allowed yourself to do?"

"I…" Amy could feel her neck constricting, her eyes seemingly nailed shut. She felt a blast of air on her face and she gasped. "I once allowed myself to be dragged into a dark horse stable with a strange man."

From the sound of his throaty chuckle, she anticipated Sheldon was now standing right before her. "Give me your hand." She complied and she felt his nimble fingers intertwine with hers for a few moments. "I like your nails. Trimmed and neat, no polish." He then let his fingers slide down her palm until they closed around her slender wrist and brought up her hand, letting it rest flatly on a warm fur. She tried to resist, but Sheldon's hold was firm and sure. "Shhh," he whispered.

Amy didn't have it in her to reply as another blast of hot air hit her cheeks, coupled with the sound of rustling.

"Open your eyes."

She silently willed the crashing of her heart to cease as it protested against her ribs, took a deep breath, and then let her eyes flutter open. First she noticed the dim light of the lanterns that had been lit around the edges of the inside of the stable, flooding the barn with a warm, orange glow. Then she let her eyes focus and found herself face-to-face with the narrow nose of the largest black horse she had ever seen in her life. Being that the only horses Amy had ever seen were on television or in movies, and had never been up so close to a horse before, she could only assume that this beast was indeed abnormally large. She whimpered and took a step back, but was met with the resistance of Sheldon's tall frame behind her. He still had his hand wrapped around her wrist, his arm spanning the length of hers while her back rested against his chest. She watched in awe as the muscles in his forearm flexed. "Is this the scariest thing you've ever done?" he inquired, his lips dangerously close to her ear.

It was overwhelming, the view of her own hands rubbing the edge of the horse's face, up and down, while it stared down at her with one eye, accusing, sizing her up. But it stayed still, allowing her to get acquainted. For this she was grateful. The next feeling that overwhelmed her was the warmness of the solid body of a man behind her. A man she had never met until hours before, a man that was forcefully, yet kindly, pushing her boundaries. He was presumptuous, standing so close to her that she could feel the rise and fall of his chest against her shoulder blades, but she found that she was not offended.

But to describe the sudden warm tremor that echoed in her lower abdomen and her shortness of breath, she would need a moment to find the words. It was unlike anything she had felt before, electrifying yet stifling. She had the sudden urge to hook her finger on the collar of her thermal shirt and bring it away from her neck. Suddenly Sheldon's grip loosened, and finally fell away. Now she was petting the horse on her own. Amy's mouth, which had been set in a firm line, began to relax, and she felt the muscles in her chin twitch until a smile broke out across her face. She watched Sheldon from the corner of her eye as he studied her reaction. "This is unbelievable," she finally breathed, her fingers running through the length of the horse's mane. The tension left her body and the horse seemed to know it, as it playfully nudged its nose into her shaking hands.

"It sure is," Sheldon murmured, his eyes focused solely on the side of Amy's face. She felt a tingle travel down her temple until it reached her neck, then finally broke her concentration on the horse to meet Sheldon's gaze.

"What?" she asked shyly, unsure of how to react under the strange man's scrutiny. Biologically, she was reacting to his presence in a way she was almost ashamed of.

"Nothing," he replied, smiling with closed lips. He brought his hand up and rested it on the flank of the horse. "Come feel around, run your hand on her spine. She's strong, built for agility and speed." His blue eyes sparkled in the dim light as he spoke of his animal. Amy mimicked his movements, running her hands along the body of the horse, marveling at her proximity. Amy's head barely reached the shoulders, the beast was so massive.

"She's magnificent," she finally admitted.

"Thank you." Sheldon had moved to the back of the stable to reopen the doors, then returned seconds later with horse's saddle and reins. He strapped everything on and held out a hand to Amy. "You're up first."

_Well, I've come this far_, Amy reasoned. She didn't recognize herself as she took Sheldon's hand and allowed herself to be hoisted up onto the seat. Robbie Fowler's daughter loved animals, and would never wish harm on a horse, but it was also the one creature she would never willingly go near. They tortured her with their size and noises, their ability to quite literally trample out her life. But the expectant look in Sheldon's eyes left no chance for her to deny him anything, and this terrified her. She suddenly had the answer to his earlier question.

When she was upright on the horse, Sheldon followed, hoisting himself up until he was straddling the seat with Amy right in front of him, her rear snuggling back into his open legs. A sweat threatened to break out on her skin as the blush crawled over every square inch of her face and neck. "You ready?" he asked cheerfully, taking the reins and encouraged her to hold onto the pommel.

"No," she croaked, but fastened her grip on the hilt between her legs, and leaned back into Sheldon's chest.

"Good." She could hear the smile in his voice. "Let's go." He made a clicking noise with his mouth and the horse moved forward, clumping her great hooves into the dirt as they left the stable and emerged into the night air. A light mist had begun to fall, the once clear sky now covered with thick, rolling clouds. A sliver of moon peeked out, bright enough to reflect of the horse's shiny coat. Amy watched the ground blur beneath them as Sheldon snapped the reins to make the creature run faster.

"Oh!" Amy gasped, watching Sheldon's mansion fly by them as they rode with haste towards the woods. Just before they entered the forest, the horse was steered left, and they trotted quickly along the tree line in the direction towards the lake. She felt her hair whip around and lash at her face, accompanied by the cold spritz of drizzle, and felt a rumbling in her chest. She opened her mouth and hollered to release the reverberation that built in her throat, exhilarated by the speed and the simulated feeling of flight. Sheldon leaned closer to her, encouraged by her cries of pleasure, and they soared until she felt weightless.

* * *

Amy shivered involuntarily, the cold wind swirling around them as they picked up speed bit at her skin, and almost pouted as Sheldon slowed the horse down.

"Sorry," he breathed. "It's been awhile since I've rode like that. I forgot you didn't have a jacket. Why don't you have a jacket, by the way?"

Amy reddened even though he couldn't see her face. She looked to the side and watched the lake sparkle in isolated spots on the water beneath the moon that was still playing hide and seek behind the clouds. "I hadn't planned on being outside for long. I was just going to explore the woods right on the line of my property but got turned around or something and lost my way."

"I'm glad you stumbled upon us," Sheldon said, his voice serious.

"Me, too," Amy agreed. "Or I'd still be out there, wandering around, or worse, being digested by a mountain lion right now." She allowed the real possibility that she could have been in danger after walking into the woods on her own run through her mind, when she suddenly realized that both of her hands were still tightly wrapped around the hilt. "Shit!" she suddenly cursed.

"What?"

"Oh, my notebook. I must have left it in the stable. Shit." Amy bit her lower lip. After the night she was having, she surely had some material to write about. She would have to make another trip into town tomorrow for more paper.

"You can always come back tomorrow to watch the performances and I'll have it waiting for you there," Sheldon offered casually, his voice clear now that they had slowed to a modest trot. He left the offer sit in the air for a while as Amy mulled it over.

"You really want me to go back?" She couldn't help herself. The question was purely indulgent, a heat-seeking missile pursuing a personal invite from the man who escorted her home.

"Of course," he nearly cried out, snapping the reins to keep the horse on a straight track. "There's so much more I want to know about you, Amy Farrah Fowler. More, in fact, that one night is not sufficient enough time to discover."

"Really?" she asked. "I told you, I'm not all that interesting." She paused and then added, "What do you want to know about me?"

"Well, for starters-where do you live?"

Amy busted out laughing, a very husky, throaty laugh that she had not heard in so long. It startled her. "Yeah, I guess that would be helpful." She sighed and craned her neck to look at the lake. "I live at the top of River Road. This is the lake that is right in front of my house, so we shouldn't be too far now."

"I know exactly where that is," Sheldon assured her, snapping the reins again. A few minutes of comfortable silence passed by, save for the occasional whinnies coming from the horse. And sure enough, the steeple-like roof of Amy's home broke in the center of the trees and came into view. "There, isn't it?" her escort asked.

"Yeah," Amy answered, almost sorry to see the night end. They rode up the hill and stopped right on her front lawn. She was about to ask Sheldon how the easiest way to dismount was until she felt him shift away from her and slide off the saddle. When his feet hit the ground, he turned and gazed up at her, raising his hand once again for her to take. The clouds had finally dispersed and the moon shone brightly down on the two of them. The light reflected in Sheldon's wide eyes as he looked at her expectantly.

"M'lady?" he offered with a smirk, and she took his hand as he helped her to the ground. He steadied her as she came back down to the earth, tightly gripping the sides of her waist.

"Sheldon?"

"Hmm?"

She looked up at him and he met her eyes, in no hurry to remove his hands from her sides. "Who are you?"

"That's a peculiar question to ask," he answered after a moment, the smirk reappearing on his face. "I told you, my name is Sheldon Cooper."

"No," Amy said, almost regretting the direction this conversation was taking. "Who _are _you? Why do you and your friends perform in the woods? And most importantly, why are you interested in getting to know me?"

Sheldon released Amy from his hold and took a respectful step back. She watched him join his hands at the base of his spine, his stance slightly hunched forward as he regarded her question. "I'd like to answer your last inquiry first, if that's alright." He looked over her shoulder and peered at her house with a curious eye. "You move into this enormous house all on your own. You walk blindly around the woods with nothing but a pencil and some paper as your only defense. You sit quietly in the back and watch my friends perform, silently mouthing along with the words. And you are careful not to let any personal details about yourself slip." Sheldon lowered his chin a fraction, gazing at Amy like he was chastising a child. "I'd say you're pretty mysterious. Can you blame me for being interested?"

"I guess not," Amy yielded after a moment.

"And as far as my friends and our nightly recitals," he began again, straightening his back. "We are all functioning members of society. We have jobs and lives and some of the others even have families. But at night, after bearing the weight of the mundane lives we lead, we come to the woods and perform. It sets us free." His tone became wistful and he stared straight at Amy. "I don't know much about you, Amy, but would it be audacious of me to assume that you can relate to the overwhelming need to 'let off some steam' every once in awhile, so to speak?"

Amy's heart pounded so loudly she was sure he could hear it. She tried to rearrange her expression so that he couldn't see how frighteningly accurate his assumption about her was. "No," she finally said. "It would actually seem as though you're spot on with your observation."

"I thought so," Sheldon whispered, stepping closer to Amy. Her heart rate accelerated. "Won't you come see us tomorrow? Perhaps if you were to see more performances, you would be able to understand why we engage in this cathartic act that you find so strange."

"I loved watching the performances," she protested. "I just found it odd that it was in the middle of the woods. You all quite literally appeared out of thin air."

"Ah," Sheldon exhaled. "I'm fairly sure we can say the same about you." And with that, Sheldon reached for her hand and brought it up to his lips. Her knuckles grazed the cleft in his chin as he kissed it, sweetly, slowly.

"Oh, my," she breathed out. She collected herself quickly as Sheldon let her hand fall. _Southern gentleman, my ass_, she thought with an internal smirk. The man obviously knew what he was doing.

"Goodnight, Amy." In a swift movement, Sheldon was on his horse and steering her around to leave. He paused then looked over his shoulder. "Wait for me tomorrow evening right before sunset here on your porch. Don't go wandering into the woods looking for us. I wouldn't want to have to mount a lion head in my study to avenge your death."

"Alright," Amy giggled despite herself. "And tomorrow, I get some more answers, don't I?"

"If you ask the right questions." He winked, and then rode off in the direction of the woods.

Amy watched until he disappeared down the trail alongside the trees. She shivered again, noticing how damp her clothes were. She needed a hot bath and perhaps a glass of wine to calm down her nerves and get some sleep. Retrieving the lone house key in her front pocket and unlocking the door, she attempted to take a step inside when a dark brown mass came hurtling towards her, yelping in surprise and relief. She laughed as her beloved Labrador lifted on his two hind legs to reach Amy's face and attack her with happy kisses.

"I missed you, too!" she cried over his whines. He stopped suddenly and removed his paws from her shoulders before taking the porch steps two at a time to relieve himself on the grass. "Poor Shakes," she cooed, giving her dog some privacy as she settled onto the porch swing and watched the trees rustle in the wind.

An hour later, after replying to her lawyer Valencia's frantic texts, assuring her that she was home and safe, Amy lied in bed with Shakespeare, rubbing the soft fur between his ears. She had used the same hand earlier to rub Sheldon's horse for the first time, and then the same hand had been taken to his lips for him to kiss. She felt an involuntary quiver roll over her body, once again surprising herself with the very chemical reactions she was having to Sheldon.

From elementary school all the way until her senior year of high school, Amy had crushes like any normal adolescent girl into her teens. There was always that unattainable, yet very present boy that she pictured herself holding hands with, but nothing had ever solidified, no relationships or dates or even many friends that she could hang out with. Along with Amy's sullen nature due to her condition, she had been a very awkward teen. A 'nerd' by most standards. Her nose always in a book, her very enthusiastic approach to the sciences and literature. Her high grades were only curbed in later years when she had succumbed to her depression and began starting fires. It had been a proud moment in her life to receive her acceptance letter to Yale, and yet the saddest moment too, knowing that she would never be the normal girl who could go off to college and make friends and maybe even meet her future husband on campus.

No, Amy was sick. And the only thing that kept her level, that kept her head above water, the only thing that kept Amy from taking her life on many occasions, was her medication.

She abruptly sat up in bed, her back ramrod straight. Her reaction was so quick that her dog yelped in surprise, jumping up and pointing his nose in the direction of her bedroom door, expecting an intruder. She fled from her sheets, running to the bathroom down the hall where all of her medication was. Amy flipped on the fluorescent light and her bare feet tingled at the touch of the cold tile as she walked towards the vanity mirror door above the sink. She opened it and saw all the prescription bottles staring back at her.

She had missed her scheduled dosages that day.

Fear threatened to cripple her; she had not missed a dose in nearly ten years. How could she have been around all those people in the woods, how could she have spoken to a strange man like Sheldon, how could she have ridden a _goddamn horse_ for crying out loud, without having an episode? This medication, though slightly catatonic state-inducing, was the only anchor Amy had to reality. Yet she had functioned for nearly eight hours after missing her scheduled doses without it.

She stood there for a long time, holding the bottles of pills in her hands as she stared at herself in the mirror while unanswerable questions fired off in every corner of her mind like tiny sparks in the dead of night. Then she carefully put all of the bottles back, never opening them, then turned off the bathroom light and walked back to her bedroom.

* * *

Morning light flooded her bedroom and bathed her in its glow. Amy shifted beneath her sheets, kicking them off as a light film of sweat covered her skin. The sun was shining so bright that it was heating up her room. She cursed herself for not having brought curtains to put up in her bedroom when she packed in haste to leave New York. She stretched and felt Shakespeare move beside her, his tail thumping expectantly against the mattress. She flailed her arm out, searching for his warm body. She felt something wet in the sheets instead. Groaning, she opened one eye to search for her dog. "Shakespeare! Did you go in the bed?" She forced herself to sit up then reluctantly brought her fingers to her nose, sniffing. The pungent scent of gasoline invaded her nostrils. "What the _fuck_?" she whispered, grasping at her sheets and pulling them off of her. The sharp smell only got stronger as she threw her sheets off the bed, the stench wafting in the air. She looked around frantically for Shakespeare but he was no longer in the room with her.

Her eyes suddenly hurt from the brightness of the sun pouring in through her drape-less windows. She shielded her vision with one arm and shakily walked to the south wall of her room where the horizontal gape of double-paned glass showed her a view the forest. She peered outside through squinted eyes, the brightness of the sun causing her retinas to ache in screaming protest.

"No…" Her mouth fell open as she saw that it wasn't the brightness of the sun, but a roaring fire in the trees at the foot of her property, the flames so high and intense that they licked the sky like orange and yellow tongues.

* * *

When Amy finally woke up from her fitful sleep filled with upsetting dreams, her room was dark and the air was stale and cold. She hesitated before opening her eyes, truly hoping she was actually awake and not about to be bombarded by more troubling visions. She heard Shakespeare snoring to her left and when she peered over at him, he was there. She sighed and reached over him to grab her cell phone off of the nightstand and saw that it was already 11:00 AM. The windows in her room were dripping on the outside with the day's rain, creating patterns on her skin with the reflection. She lied in bed for a bit longer, relishing the warm cocoon beneath the blankets and the even breathing of her canine companion. Then she remembered her nightmares.

It had been a conscience decision on her part not to take her medication last night before bed. A part of Amy was slightly proud of herself for being on her best behavior with Sheldon and his friends. But the other part of her knew that just before she had stumbled upon their makeshift theater, she had been on the cusp of a breakdown. True, at that moment she had just realized she was lost in the middle of the woods, which warranted a bit of a freak out. It's not like she had wanted to hurt herself or set something ablaze.

Her dreams came to her again and she shuddered, deciding to get out of bed and go take her medication. But when she reached the bathroom sink, she let her hand hover over the vanity door. The only person she truly stayed medicated for was her father. But now he was gone, and Amy had fled across the country to escape the memories of his death and her old life behind. Perhaps it was on account of the fresh, forest air of this town, but Amy had entertained the thought that maybe she could learn to live off of her meds. Maybe Robbie Fowler left this property to Amy in his will because he knew that an escape like this was all Amy needed to be completely cured.

_But if he thought that this was what you needed, why didn't he bring you here when he was alive?_ she inwardly challenged herself.

Amy liked to think that somewhere deep down in the recesses of her twisted mind, that the intelligent, loving girl she used to be was still there. The young girl who would write plays for her dad to act out, the little Amy who dared to dream of a life beyond her own that was subdued by her prescription pills.

She stared into the mirror, assessing her sharp chin and narrow, yet sweetly curved lips. Her green eyes, the eyes of Robbie Fowler, and the thick lashes of Farrah Holt. Amy still had the young, fresh face of a girl with a brave new world ahead of her. She was saddened by the comatose, passive shell of a woman she had become. Realizing her decision, she took a step away from the medicine cabinet and whirled around to start the shower. She had to make a run into town to grab a few things before Sheldon came to get her tonight, and her agenda for the day did not include taking her medication.

* * *

She had narrowed it down to two different outfits. One was a cream-colored blazer over dark denim skinny jeans and a royal blue silk top. This would be paired with a pair of knee-high boots and was decided to be the outfit she would don if Sheldon showed up on his horse tonight, which she wasn't looking forward to. The other outfit was a coral colored silk top with a ruffled chest to go with a navy blue pencil skirt with a high slit in the back. This would be completed by black heels, which she was truly hoping to wear, being that the heels made her calves and bottom look amazing even though they hurt like hell.

Amy had been over Sheldon's arrival many times in her head. She had never been on a date before, and could hardly count this as one itself, but she would be lying if she said she wasn't anticipating seeing Sheldon again with the vigor of a debutante about to be called on by the most handsome boy in town. She had planned on being ready when he got there, didn't want to keep him waiting, so she decided she would go with the safe choice and changed into the jeans, blazer and boots. Even if they didn't arrive to the stage in the woods by horseback, it would still be hell trekking through the forest in heels.

She walked downstairs and surveyed her empty house, most of which had still gone unexplored. The vastness of the quarters gave her an eerie feeling, and she didn't relish opening all ten bedroom doors to see what had been left inside after twenty years. She called for Shakespeare to join her and opened the front door just in time to see a small white Jaguar coupe pull into her driveway.

"Shakes!" she called fearfully as her Lab tore down the porch steps to meet the intruder at their car. She walked down the steps herself and squinted her eyes in time to see Howard and Bernadette waving at her through their windshield. "Shakespeare, heel!" When he heard the order from Amy, he sat on his haunches, watching Howard's every move as the short man opened his car door and peered down warily at the large dog.

"Hey, Amy!" Bernadette squealed happily, climbing out of the passenger side and walking around the hood of the car to come closer. "You look great!"

Amy tried to keep the disappointment from her voice as she searched the backseat of the idling car and saw that it was empty. Sheldon-less. "Hey, Bernadette. Thanks. It's probably because last time you saw me I was wearing wet, mud-covered hiking clothes."

"Hope you don't mind us showing up like this, but Sheldon sent us," Howard apologized, still looking down at Shakespeare as the dog lowered his ears and growled.

"He did?" Amy inquired, torn between disappointment and excitement; disappointed that maybe Sheldon sent them to deliver the news that tonight was cancelled, or even worse, that maybe he no longer wished to know her, but excited that maybe there was a chance he was waiting for her. "I hope he's okay…"

"Oh, peachy," Howard began, then pointed at her dog. "Does he bite?"

"His own tail." Amy rolled her eyes then clapped for Shakespeare's attention. "Inside, boy." She pointed at the house to drive her point home, and he whined before following orders, trudging across the lawn and up the porch stairs before disappearing inside.

"Sheldon was just preparing for his performance tonight," Bernadette said, her voice as high and sweet as Amy remembered it. "He asked us to deliver you in one piece, so here we are. Are you ready to go?"

Amy's heart fluttered, damn it for being so temperamental, and she tried to hide the smile on her face. Sheldon on stage tonight? Her blush was not lost on Bernadette and Howard as they exchanged a knowing look. "Yes, I'm ready. Let me just get something from inside." She bounded up her porch steps and grabbed her satchel, gave Shakespeare a kiss on the head goodbye, then locked up behind her. "Okay, good to go."

"Hop in, sister," Howard panned, pointing to the backseat. She smiled gratefully and crawled in as he pulled his front seat forward. When she was settled, he adjusted his chair and climbed in behind the steering wheel.

"You really do look great, Amy," Bernadette commented from the front seat as Howard shifted the car into reverse and then turned it around to head down the driveway.

"Not as great as you," Amy returned the compliment, truly awed by the black, knee-length gown and golden jewelry she was decked out in.

"Please," the petite blonde said with a hint of sarcasm. "I'm tired of wearing these types of get-ups into the woods. But it's for the love of the theater. And it's what Sheldon asks of all of us."

"I had a dressier outfit inside," Amy said, suddenly feeling under-dressed and frumpy. "I can run back inside and change really fast."

"Nah." Howard shook his head. "Don't worry, only performers are required to get all dolled up."

Amy relaxed slightly, happy she wouldn't have to strap on her high heels. Then she mulled over Howard's statement. "Do you guys ever have an audience?"

There was a hesitation before she answered, and Amy did not miss it, but then Bernadette peered over her shoulder playfully at her backseat passenger and winked. "We were all an audience at one point." Then she reached for Howard's free hand that wasn't on the wheel, and Amy watched them rest their joined palms on the middle console for the entirety of the drive, pondering over what Bernadette could have meant.


	4. Illusions

**A/N: First of all, thanks again for the feedback. I love your reviews! Keep 'em comin'! :]**

**Second, so sorry for the delay. I have a full-time job and go to school full-time, too, so between studying and dealing with my whiny staff at work, time goes by pretty fast and before I know it, a week has gone by since I've had the time to sit and write! But I will not abandon this story, so stay tuned. ;]**

**Third, it has been brought to my attention from an amazing friend of mine that somebody has found time out of their seemingly boring life to talk smack about this story on a TBBT message board (that I don't even post on) instead of actually leaving a review. Not that I'm encouraging flame reviews, but seriously? On a message board? Apparently this person thinks my story is a rip off from Twilight. Pump the breaks! I guarantee in this fic, there will be no vampires or werewolves. Yes, this story takes place in an imaginary town right on the Pugent Sound (like 2 ½ hrs away from Forks where Twilight takes place if I'm not mistaken, can't be sure, I'm from Texas lol), but only because it was the perfect setting for my characters. That is probably the only similarity to the movie/book franchise that my fic has. I'm actually a Twilight fan - I would know. Bella didn't have any mental health problems stemming from her dead mother and celebrity father, and Edward Cullen didn't ride horses (horses would be terrified of him) and love the theater like Sheldon. **

**More importantly - the famous vamp couple could never go down the path I have planned for the Shamy.**

**So for future reference so-called 'author' whose pen name I ****do**** know but will withhold because you're totally not worth the free press, why don't you read past the first couple paragraphs before you decide to judge my work? **

**Lastly, sorry for the rant, folks. I truly hope you enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

Amy relaxed into her seat, rubbing her open palms along the leather interior of the car while Bernadette and Howard made small talk in the front.

She watched as Howard casually referred to his wife as _Bernie_ and rubbed his thumb on her knuckles in affection. Amy waited for herself to become uncomfortable with the tiny couple's mutual admiration and subtle petting, but it never happened. She genuinely felt at ease around them, which was entirely fascinating on its own right, since Amy never felt the ability to be at ease around more than a few people her entire life. Her lawyer Valencia, her father of course, and a couple of nannies she had since infancy, those of which had been released upon her entering the mental institution.

The sun hadn't made an appearance all day, but the sky was a bright gray and hopeful. The lush trees swayed in the wind as they raced by them. Howard had taken advantage in the break from rain and pushed the speedometer to almost 90 MPH, causing Bernadette to shrilly demand he slow down every few minutes. The brown bark and evergreen leaves on either side of the car blurred from the speed and made Amy think of the horse ride with Sheldon. It seemed like ages ago, but it had only been the night before. She closed her eyes and imagined she was riding again with him, his arms framing her on either side as he slapped the reins of his beast, chuckling deeply in her ear while she whooped and hollered in ecstasy. It had been the single most intimate moment of her life with a man. She suddenly became shy, even though she was alone in the back seat, and pushed her thighs together, hoping to suppress the sudden rumble of discontent that had begun to quiver in her lower abdomen.

"What's in the satchel, Amy?" Bernadette called from the front seat, her delicate chin barely grazing her shoulder as she peered over at her and interrupted her train of thought.

"Oh, just some writing stuff," Amy said, lowering her head as she pulled the bag closer to her. After she was able to shake last night's intense dreams of fires and darkness from her mind, she garnered the energy to make another trip into town in the early afternoon, this time to buy some food to stock her kitchen and treats for Shakespeare. She found a charming shop in the middle of the strip of businesses in the center of town. It was filled with mostly trinkets and antiqued collectibles, but Amy found a corner of the shop with quill pens and textured parchment that she bought in bulk for her collection at home. Then she found a beautiful leather-bound journal, burgundy colored with gold trimming and decided to bring it along with her to tonight's performances in case she was feeling as inspired as she had the night before. She remembered Sheldon asking her if she was any good at writing. She hoped he wouldn't ask to read what she wrote as she wasn't quite ready to be that intimate yet. Once again, the words _Sheldon _and _intimate _caused her heartbeat to accelerate and she swallowed hard as Bernadette spoke.

"Are you a writer?" She had turned halfway in her seat, leaning over and facing Amy with complete interest. Before she could answer, Howard accelerated, taking advantage of Bernadette not watching his speedometer. "Hey, pal, ease off the gas pedal! I can still feel us hurtling towards certain death, you know!" Her neck snapped to look at his face, and her sweet voice had taken on an almost comedic drop in pitch, making Amy think of a pissed-off old lady. She bit her lip to keep from laughing as Howard followed orders and brought the car back to a responsible speed, mumbling quietly to himself. He rolled his eyes at Amy in the rearview mirror and she offered him a helpless shrug.

"Like I was saying," Bernadette continued, narrowing her eyes at her husband before she turned to face Amy again. "What kind of stuff do you write?"

"I'm not a writer per say," Amy started, chewing on her lower lip as she fingered the strap of her satchel. "I just sort of get ideas in my mind sometimes, about people acting out the scene I've developed in my head. I guess kind of like mini movie scripts." Her heart thumped in fear as the words left her mouth. She ached for her father, but could not, would not bring him up in mixed company. She was determined to show Howard and Bernadette the same cheeriness that they had brought to the table. Nobody liked a downer. "Anyway," she continued before Bernadette could read too far into her hollow expression. "It's just a hobby. I'm not published or anything."

"Maybe you could write something for us to perform," Howard suggested from the driver's seat. A clicking noise ticked in the sudden silence; he had signaled his blinker to turn right into a constricted gape in the trees, slowing the car considerably as Amy tried to struggle for a polite way to decline his offer.

"Oh, no," she chuckled lightly. "You guys should stick to the classic writers. Both of you are amazingly talented at interpreting Shakespeare's plays."

"Come on, it'll be fun to do something original for a change!"

"I don't know…" She brought her hands to her knees, grasping the bones through her jeans to keep her hands from shaking. A stray thought frolicked across her mind as her pulse raced, the air in the car had gotten stuffy, and a sweat broke out across her brow: perhaps today was not a great day to stop taking her medication. It was hard for Amy to put a finger on why her sudden reaction to Howard's suggestion was so intense, forming a lump in her throat and causing her fingers to tingle. She cursed herself and demanded her body not to fly into a full-fledged panic attack as her blood raced frantically to her head and a tightness expanded in her chest. Amy was on the ledge of what she had felt yesterday when she realized she was lost in the woods, just moments before she stumbled across the theater.

She tried to keep her face even, but as they turned into the forest and bounced down an uneven dirt trail, Bernadette quickly caught on to her discomfort. She turned in her seat to face the windshield and grabbed at Howard's hand. "Howie, stop pressuring Amy. Don't put her to work already; she just came to enjoy the show!"

"Fine," Howard relented, ducking his head. "Sorry, Amy. Didn't mean to badger you."

"No, it's fine," Amy croaked gratefully. She cleared her throat as her heart began to slow down.

"Well, anything we perform has to be okayed by the man himself, unless of course you're _Penelope_," he added, then yelped as Bernadette pinched the taut skin above his knuckles. "What? It's true."

Amy had taken a moment to regain control of her respiratory system while the couple in front of her whispered to each other, and soon she was overcome with curiosity. "Why does Penelope get to perform original work and no one else does?"

Bernadette hummed uncomfortably as it got darker in the car, the looming trees blocking out the gray light of the late afternoon sky. "Well, Penelope and Sheldon are kind of the ringleaders of our little setup."

"More like Sheldon is and Penelope likes to _think _she has a say in what's what." Howard's voice dripped with what Amy was beginning to think was his signature sarcasm.

"Howie…" Bernadette said in a warning tone.

"What? I can't express my thoughts in the privacy of my own car with my wife and new friend?"

"No, it's just…" she paused then motioned with her neck to Amy, "we don't want our new friend getting the wrong impression of our old friends before she's even had the chance to meet them herself."

"Oh, I won't say anything," Amy promised, leaning forward over her lap and closer to the front seat. Her inquisitiveness was palpable, she was sure, but she couldn't help it. She suddenly remembered the exchange between Sheldon and Penelope in the woods and then again on the front porch when Sheldon casually referred to the disgruntled blonde as 'Penny', then dismissed her just as casually. It didn't take a genius to know there was something between them. Romantic? Amy couldn't be sure, but she could only hope not. The thought alone of her hopefulness caused her to blush as she inwardly ridiculed herself for even thinking she had anything on someone as aesthetically pleasing as Penelope, who seemed to be exactly the type Sheldon went for. She took a deep breath and continued. "I actually have met Penelope before, though." She stopped when both Howard and Bernadette's necks whipped around to look at her over their shoulders with confusion and slight mystification.

"Eyes on the road!" Bernadette squawked at her husband as he turned back around and kept the wheel steady. "You said you've met Penelope?"

"Yes," Amy answered slowly. "A few days ago, when I first moved here. I went into town to buy a few things and she was at the drugstore. We were reaching to grab the same thing of the shelf, a simple black spiral notebook, but she told me to take it, then introduced herself."

"Really? Like an actual polite person?" Howard inquired, earning a weak smack on the arm from Bernadette.

"Yes," Amy said again, her lips turning up at the corners. "It's hard to believe that she was being polite?"

"No," Bernadette said firmly at the same time Howard mumbled, "Yes."

"What's her deal?" Amy couldn't help but want to know why Bernadette seemed to fear anyone speaking ill of Penelope while Howard seemed to possess a small grudge against her, and what it all had to do with her relationship with Sheldon.

"Like I said," Bernadette began again as soon as other parked cars came into view in the clearing behind the theater. "Her and Sheldon are the ones who keep the theater going for us. They give us the material to practice and ultimately perform. They maintain the stage and the solitude so that we can feel free to be ourselves here. It's because of them that we even get to do this whenever we want."

"So they started this?"

"No," Howard answered this time, easing the small car into a spot and shifted into park before turning off the engine. "This was something he inherited. Our secret theater has been around for about one hundred years, and it's a special honor for the one in charge to pass it on to the next person of their choosing, kind of like passing the torch."

"So Penelope and Sheldon both inherited this?" Amy was like a small child, asking her mother and father where babies came from.

"No, that's the thing," Howard grumbled. "Sheldon inherited the theater. Penelope tries to call the shots just 'cause she's Sheldon's little fling on the side…"

"Howard, that's enough!" Bernadette gasped before turning to face Amy. "It's all hearsay. There's absolutely no proof that they're an actual couple."

"Yeah, that's why I said 'fling on the side,' Bernie," Howard said, his eyebrows waggling suggestively. "She's the type that's attracted to power. Sheldon is not only the ringleader of our acting company, but a very rich and influential man. The theater is not the only thing he inherited." He shook his head and made eye contact with Amy again in the rearview mirror. "Lucky bastard. He's my age and has more money than I'll ever see in my life."

"I swear, Howie, you don't know when to shut up," Bernadette growled. "Amy, please don't think any different of Sheldon or Penelope." She turned to face her husband again. "In fact, if Sheldon were to find out we were gossiping to Amy about his private matters behind his back, he would be…very displeased."

Amy's head cocked to the side, a frown setting on her lips as her brow furrowed. "What do you mean, _to Amy_? Did he specifically ask you to remain mum about him in front of me?"

Even Howard remained quiet, abruptly looking down at his hands.

"Look what you've done," Bernadette groaned. She unbuckled her seat belt and turned again in her seat to look at Amy. "Please don't read too much into this, Amy. Sheldon would just prefer to speak to you himself about these things. I mean, how would you feel if your life were laid bare against your will to someone you just met?"

The very question shocked Amy like a jolt of electricity. Bernadette didn't know it, but that's the last thing Amy would ever want, for her secrets, her life, her very essence to be stripped and put on display for anyone, especially Sheldon Cooper, to know and study. She looked down and nodded. "No, I understand. Sorry for being nosy." This was not how she wanted the night to start out, so she figured now would be a good time to keep the remainder of her questions on deck for the appropriate time.

"It's not your fault," Bernadette cooed. "My husband here is a real gossip queen. You'll have to excuse him." She waited a beat before adding, "And Penelope is not as awful as he's making her seem. She's just a very confident person, and she puts a lot of care in to her craft. She's was born to perform. You'll see."

Amy nodded politely as they finally piled out of the car, Howard holding the door open for her as she crawled over his bent chair and finally placed her feet on the crunchy twigs of the forest floor. A blast of cold wind wrapped the three of them in an icy embrace, and she shivered. "Thanks for picking me up, guys," she said, attempting to change the subject. With more questions than answers, Amy felt slightly unsettled, but was now more than ever eager to see Sheldon.

"Anytime," Howard answered, smiling as he draped an arm over Bernadette's shoulders. "Let's go!" The couple led the way as they trekked past the parked cars and headed closer to the twinkling lights of the stage. Amy heard the gentle humming of a generator in the distance, and saw two campfires on either side of the fallen logs where everyone was now gathered, some sitting, some standing as they all conversed. The fires were no doubt built to produce warmth against the sudden cold. She saw all the familiar faces of the people she interacted with at the party the night before, and there was a sudden stir in their conversation as she came into view, emerging from the trees beside Howard and Bernadette.

"Amy!" Raj was the first to jump from his seat on the logs and welcomed her, walking up to her with his arm outstretched. When he met her, she held out her hand to shake his. "I'm so glad you came back! Oh, tonight is going to be amazing. We've got some great plays lined up, and I have something special I'm performing that I know you'll enjoy…"

"What's with you lately?" Howard asked, interrupting Amy and Raj's greeting. "First time in 30 years that you can talk to women and now you just can't shut up."

"Bite me, dude," Raj panned, giving his friend an irritated look.

Amy laughed at the sudden sour demeanor Raj took on, and her curiosity got the best of her again. "What does he mean, Raj?"

Raj adjusted his dark blue blazer over his matching slacks and rolled his eyes at Howard before facing Amy. "A few weeks ago, you may not believe it but, I was unable to converse with women. I would clam up or leave the room every time a female would try to converse with me. It was only on stage that I could release my inhibitions and truly speak to a crowd with women mixed in, and to speak to them one-on-one, I had to be piss drunk."

Amy covered her mouth with one hand to cover her shock. "Seriously?"

"Yes," Raj said, nodding sadly. "I was truly an enigma."

"He was screwed up in the head, is what he means," Howard interjected, earning another playful slap on the arm from Bernadette.

"Anyway," Raj continued, facing Amy. "At one of our parties, one of our performers had suggested hypnosis. We were all wasted and it was 2:00 AM so we were sort of grasping at straws for something to do to keep the party going." He lowered his voice mysteriously, and Amy couldn't help but lean closer. "He took me into a room and waved a small pocket watch on a golden chain in front of my face. I was skeptical at first, of course, but then suddenly, everything went black." He waved his hands in the air between him and Amy, engaging her in his story like a true performer. He whispered, "I was lost in a mist with nothing around me except the cold darkness."

Amy heard Howard scoff as Raj continued. "Then bam!" He clapped his hands together, causing Amy to startle backward and Bernadette to giggle behind her. "He uttered a magic phrase that he said would remain in secret for the rest of his days, for if anyone were to utter it, I would revert back to my old ways. From that point on, I would no longer allow my fears of interacting with women, or sometimes effeminate men, to hold me back from being a normal person."

"And sometimes, I'm tempted to say the phrase just so he'll shut up," Howard chimed in. Amy pivoted to face him, amazement evident on her face.

"It was you, Howard?" she asked.

"Yep," Howard said with a small grin. "I felt sorry for the guy. I used to dabble in magicianry back in the day…"

"Magic tricks," Bernadette huffed with a roll of her eyes.

"Excuse me," Howard snapped. "They're called _illusions_. Anyway, yeah. I found one of my old watches and I figured it'd be worth a shot."

"And I can never thank him enough," Raj concluded, walking over to Howard and wrapping an arm around his friend. "This guy is my best buddy." Howard smiled and shrugged sheepishly.

"Yeah, it's a little frightening sometimes," Bernadette sighed. "Come on, Amy. I can tell when we're not needed." She looped her arm into Amy's and pulled her away from the two men who had begun to talk about their performances planned for the evening. "Oh, they have the fires going. Good, I'm freezing." She drew Amy closer to the flames and Amy couldn't help but flinch. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Amy said brightly. She turned her back away from the flames and shook away the cold feeling that her dreams gave her. "I'm just excited for tonight." She waved at a few people who were shouting their greetings to her. She was relieved that everyone seemed to remember her and acting as though they were truly happy to see her. It was nothing like she had ever experienced. She dared herself to think, _These people are treating me like their friend._ Amy had never made any real friends before. Sure, when she was younger Robbie tried pushing play dates at their house with kids from school, but she would wallow in a corner alone while the other girls and boys played with all of her cool toys or outside on her humungous jungle gym, never asking her to play, never acknowledging her presence. And as she got older, she was more concerned with causing mayhem to be sent to an actual school, so she was home-schooled alone. And making friends certainly wasn't a priority when she was institutionalized. She sighed inwardly, forcing herself to break free from her reminiscing and concentrate on what was in front of her instead of behind her.

Bernadette guided them to the front row and they sat down while the petite blonde chatted with people around them. Amy concentrated on her satchel in her lap, vaguely listening to the conversation until someone mentioned Sheldon's name in a hushed tone. She raised her chin a fraction towards the woman who was telling Bernadette about his performance.

"I heard he's going to perform first tonight," the slender woman with a thick Indian accent and dark, lovely skin said to Bernadette. "He's being very secretive about it."

"Really?" Bernadette asked with peaked interest. "I wonder what he'll do." She turned to face Amy. "This is Priya. She's Rajesh's sister."

"Oh," Amy said, smiling widely. She turned and extended her hand to Priya, who took it graciously. "Nice to meet you. Your brother is an amazing actor."

"Yes, well it runs in the family," Priya laughed, then tossed her hair over her shoulder. "He could not stop talking about you today. You really made an impression on everybody last night."

"Well…" Amy shied away, ducking her head. "Everybody is really nice." She returned Priya's smile before adding, "Very nice to meet you." Then she turned in her seat as Bernadette and the woman continued their short conversation, wondering aloud what Sheldon would be performing.

"I guess that explains why we haven't seen him yet," Bernadette said to Amy when she finally turned around. "He was hell bent on us getting you here on time tonight, probably because he wanted you to be here in time to see him on stage."

"Yeah?" Amy felt her face flush and was grateful for the shadows casted by the fires and dim twinkling lights that concealed her color greatly. She faced the stage that was just a few feet in front of her and felt the anticipation build up in her stomach. What did Sheldon have planned tonight? She wondered what he would look like, what play he would enact. Amy's impression of Sheldon was that he didn't seem like the performing type. He was playful but in a subdued way, and very forthcoming when it came to his questions about Amy. Still, Sheldon had an air about him that gave her reason to believe he was withholding a great deal from her. Although with the lavish life he introduced her to last night, from the display of his extravagant home to the grand stable and horses he rode, he did seem to have a penchant for the extreme and the grand. Perhaps he was a performer after all.

"Yeah," Bernadette said after a moment, watching as the emotions of Amy's thoughts flowed over her face and she giggled. "Amy, do you have a _thing_ for Sheldon?"

"Oh, my God, no," Amy replied abruptly, so quickly that she bit her tongue in the process like a klutz. She nursed it, rubbing it along the side of her teeth to dull the pain as Bernadette laughed even harder. "I don't even know him," Amy insisted.

"I believe that sometimes forces, such as attraction, well, they choose us—we don't choose them," the tiny woman said in a serious tone, though her face was gentle and smiling. "Don't worry, though. Your secret is safe with me." She winked as a man that Amy recognized from yesterday took the stage and commanded everyone's attention with a shrill whistle.

Amy shut her eyes tight, willing the redness in her face to disappear, before opening them again and studying the man on stage. He had curly hair, closely cropped to his head, and thick-framed glasses. He wore a black blazer over black slacks and a light pink buttoned-up shirt beneath. He was short in stature but not thin like Howard. "Good evening everyone!" he greeted. "I'm Leonard, as you all know, and I'll be your mic controller for the evening. If anyone can find my mic, please return it immediately." The crowd groaned good-naturedly at his lame joke, and Amy crossed her arms, craning her neck to look over her shoulder as Leonard went on about the performances in store for the night.

As she was looking around the crowd, she searched for the pair of blue eyes that she had been thinking about all day, but was thrown off at the sudden view of the svelte figure of a woman in a form-fitting fiery red dress with tiny beads that sparkled in the light of the fire she sat next to. Her thick locks of blonde waves were pulled up into a loose bun with curly tendrils falling to the side along with her swooped bangs. It was Penelope in all of her glory who sat erect with a group of other women and she was watching the stage with a penetrating stare, as if anticipating the first act with great intensity. Amy wondered idly if she was waiting for Sheldon to perform just like she was. Amy was about to turn around to face the front again when Penelope shifted her gaze and it met hers. Visibly, there were no changes to her face. She remained just as intense, staring straight through Amy as if she were glass. Then with a slight sniff, Penelope turned her neck to face forward again. Amy felt released by her stare and squared her shoulders, facing the front.

"What's wrong?" Bernadette asked, sensing her sudden jumpiness.

"Nothing," Amy assured her, smiling. "When do you perform tonight?"

"Oh, not until the end." She was about to continue when Leonard's voice drew their attention to the stage once more.

"And now, without further ado, let's welcome our first performer, Sheldon Cooper!" He started clapping while everyone joined in, and a few cat calls from the women in the crowd caused Amy to shrink inwardly. The stage had a backdrop of velvety curtains that Amy hadn't noticed yesterday. This close to the stage, she could appreciate the entire set up, and she was impressed. She saw the curtains ripple as the applause continued, and suddenly, Sheldon appeared from behind the drapes, walking to the center of the stage as the applause became louder. He smiled slyly with closed lips, and Amy felt herself swoon.

He wore a charcoal gray suit with a crisp, white buttoned-up shirt beneath. The blazer and slacks were tailored exactly to his lean yet towering frame. His shoes were black and shined so bright that they glistened beneath the spotlight. His hair was neatly combed and parted to the side like yesterday and his skin was just as smooth and clear, as well. But something about the concentration on his face made the breath Amy was inhaling catch in her throat. His bright blue eyes zoned in until they found her, and he never released his stare as he began the sonnet that Amy somehow knew he was performing just to summon a rise from her and her alone:

_" Love is too young to know what conscience is,_

_Yet who knows not conscience is born of love?_

_Then, gentle cheater, urge not my amiss,_

_Lest guilty of my faults thy sweet self prove;_

_For, thou betraying me, I do betray_

_My nobler part to my gross body's treason._

_My soul doth tell my body that he may_

_Triumph in love—flesh stays no father reason,_

_But, rising at thy name, doth point out thee…_

Amy's breath quickened as Sheldon's tiny lisp was overshadowed by the gruff texture of his voice. His eyes remained on her and softened as they pleaded Amy with their gaze while he recited the sonnet's most erotic and suggestive lines. She gazed back at him, the edges of her eyesight blurring as the world faded to black and it was just them two.

_As his triumphant prize—proud of this pride,_

_He is contented thy poor drudge to be,_

_To stand in thy affairs, fall by thy side._

_No want of conscience hold it that I call_

_Her "love" for whose dear love I rise and fall."_ *

He waited a heartbeat before finally bowing his head, one of his arms bent behind his back as the other rested on his abdomen. The crowd erupted while he retreated to the curtain, turning his back on the crowd, and disappeared.

* * *

Amy felt like one of the groupies that used to stand around outside of their gated neighborhood to wait for Robbie after he and Amy returned from an outing. As a young girl, she would slouch in the back of their limo as scantily clad women threw themselves at the vehicle and Robbie would grin and eat it up.

Well, she wasn't dressed like a whore, but she was wearing a brush of dark blue eye shadow and pink lip gloss that she hoped made her look a little older instead of the surly, dirt covered and wet mess Sheldon had met yesterday. She put a hand to her hip and tried to stay out of view as Bernadette and Howard wrapped up the night with their rendition of a scene from one of Howard's favorite movies _Fiddler on the Roof_. She had not seen Sheldon come into the audience after his performance almost an hour earlier. But as the drizzle began to seep through the thick foliage of trees that hovered over the theater, the crowd had decided one more performance would be what they would tolerate before they retreated back to Sheldon's house, or The Coliseum as they liked to call it, and begin their customary post-show festivities. So when Howard and Bernadette were in the bottom leg of their act, Amy rose from her seat discretely and walked to the rear of the stage where the curtains covered what was happening in the front. She figured Sheldon had to be back there, and she waited patiently.

"Waiting for someone?"

Amy froze and contemplated running into the trees to hide in humiliation. Apparently she wasn't as discreet as she had hoped. She turned slowly and came face-to-face with the stunning Penelope. She stood straight with one hand on her hip in an almost mirror image of Amy's stance, but much more severe. She was slightly taller due to her high heels and used her advantage to look down her nose at Amy.

It was a few seconds before she found her voice. "Oh, yeah. I'm just waiting for, um, Sheldon."

"I figured," Penelope murmured. Suddenly, her stone face thawed and a small smile graced her features. She was truly striking and it caused Amy to go weak in the knees with inadequacy. "That was quite a performance he put on tonight, hmm?" Her fire engine red lips matched perfectly with her dress as she measured Amy with her eyes.

"Yes, it was," she agreed, then quickly added, "everyone was amazing tonight. I had been meaning to tell you that I was particularly taken with your reading yesterday." Amy found herself stumbling over her words as Penelope remained quiet, so she continued slowly. "I was looking forward to another performance by you tonight."

"Well, on account of the rain, my performance will have to wait for another night."

Penelope took a step closer to Amy, her presence leering and dominant. It made Amy squirm uncomfortably and she racked her brain to think of something to speak about. The silence stretched between them as the audience engaged and clapped to Howard and Bernadette's performance on stage. Finally, Amy bit the bullet. "Penelope, I met you a few days ago. In town. You remember, don't you?"

"I do," the blonde finally replied, causing Amy to sigh in relief.

"Great, I thought I was going crazy or something, having made it up in my head." Amy caught the irony of her sentence, but didn't elaborate.

"My question to you, Amy, is: why are you here?"

The query left her breathless. Surely Penelope had heard about Amy's stumbling upon the theater after getting lost in the woods? And even if she had, judging by the look on her oval-shaped face, she was not happy about her presence. But what had Amy done to warrant Penelope's anger?

"She, of course, is my guest, Penny. Don't be rude to my guest."

Amy and Penelope turned towards the voice and watched in time for Sheldon to walk down the back steps of the stage with a bouquet of wild flowers in his hands. The stems dripped with water and mud, looking as though they had been freshly picked from the ground. Sheldon's blazer was gone, and his sleeves had been rolled up to the elbows, just like yesterday, Amy noted. She watched him descend the steps, his eyes solely on her though he had addressed Penelope.

"There he is," the woman in the red dress seethed. "The man of the hour. Since when do we let _outsiders_ like this one hang around us?"

Amy's mouth dropped as she broke her stare with Sheldon and twirled around to reface Penelope. Her tone was scathing, and she referred to Amy as an 'outsider' with the same fervor as if she were referring to an insect that was buzzing around her face. "What is your problem?" she heard herself ask, her defenses rising up to the occasion. Amy may not have been one for social graces, but if Robbie Fowler had taught her anything in her turbulent 28 years of life, it was that she was beneath no one, and would act accordingly.

"What did you do, Amy? Did you follow me here?" Penelope's voice raised a notch as she took a step toward her, menacingly advancing.

"What?" Amy did not back down, but the bewilderment was evident on her face as Penelope stepped closer. "What are you talking about? I didn't follow anyone!"

"That's enough, Penelope." Sheldon had suddenly stepped between the two women, extinguishing the fiery exchange with one glaring look he tossed at the blonde.

She looked up at him, momentarily stunned by his tone, then her face relaxed back into a sneer. "Well, looks like I've outworn my welcome. You two have fun tonight." She used one of her hands to slightly raise the train of her dress as the crowd applauded Howard and Bernadette's big finish. "Just know, Amy. That this?" She motioned with her free hand to Sheldon. "It doesn't last." And with that, she rotated her heels and walked quickly away from them, into the woods towards The Coliseum.

After a few seconds, Sheldon's shoulders slumped and he turned around to face Amy, whose mouth was still open in shock. _What the hell was that? And what did she mean that _this _doesn't last? _she asked herself. "Sheldon," she said out loud. "Did I do something to offend her?"

"No," he replied with feeling, shaking his head from side to side. "Of course not. That woman, Penelope, she's quite the stickler for dramatics." He lowered his head and Amy followed his gaze until she caught sight again of the bouquet of flowers in his right hand. It didn't come to mind what they were for until she saw his arm extend and push the flowers towards her. "These are for you."

Amy's tongue had gone dry from the way her mouth kept dropping open. She hesitated, not sure how to react. "Those are for me?" She felt as though she had reverted back to the bumbling idiot that she had been when she met Sheldon for the first time the night before, parroting back questions to him in earnest. But she truly needed clarification. Between the sensual sonnet he recited while looking down at her on stage, and the bouquet of flowers, Amy was floundering. She jumped in surprise when he laughed, amused by her astonishment.

"Yes. After my performance I walked to my property where there's a small patch of wild flowers growing on the tree line. I picked them, then brought them back for you."

Amy's hands shook as she reached out unsteadily and grasped the stems and made a fist around them, grazing Sheldon's long fingers with her own in the process. She pulled them back to her chest, sniffing them and felt her head spin. She wasn't sure if it was from the fragrance of the flowers or from Sheldon, the delicious scent that was so uniquely him still lingering on the petals. "They're beautiful. Thank you." She avoided his eyes, staring instead around his arm as the crowd began to disperse towards his mansion. "But…why?"

"We had made plans to get to know each other. I promised you last night that, with the right questions, I would provide you with answers," he began, taking a step towards Amy and offering his bent elbow for her to take in true gentlemanly fashion. "As I am a man of my word, I offer you the flowers as a preemptive move." When Amy smiled up at him questioningly, he continued. "First thing you've got to know about me, Amy Farrah Fowler, is that I give flowers to beautiful women." He winked at her impishly as he led her into the forest towards The Coliseum. "Now, tell me. What else would you like to know?"

* * *

*Sheldon's saucy performance was a reading of Sonnet 151 by William Shakespeare. Are you sensing a pattern here? ;]


	5. Questions

**A/N: Your reviews … oh my, goodness. I've already thanked some of you personally but to those I haven't, just know that your feedback is truly astounding. I'm so glad you like this story! Just…thank you!**

**I'm so sorry about the delay. Every time I picked up my laptop to write, I swear something else would happen. I have so much homework this semester and major changes happening at work. ****Real life can suck sometimes.**** Can you all please call my boss and tell him to get off my back? I have a fic to write!**

* * *

_It was Halloween night. _

_Amy was 15 years-old and too old to trick-or-treat, but even if she were a few years younger, she didn't like costumes. Or candy. Her father was having a dinner party downstairs with a small group of people as she roamed the top floor hallway of the mansion by herself. She leaned over the rail of the spiral staircase and looked to the ground floor where she could hear the clinking of glass and sounds light jazz music wafting upwards towards the darkened third floor. Sighing, she pushed off the railing and continued her journey down the hallway. She came to a stop outside of the private theater built in the east wing of the house. _

_Stepping inside, she let her fingers run along the cold tin canisters of 8MM films on the built-in shelves. Amy loved her father's library of movies almost as much as she loved a library of books. She picked the can she was looking for and brought it over to the film projector room built over the small theater that sat 20 people. _

_Robbie was never one to deny her anything, but he didn't want her watching movies alone in fear that she would break the projection machine. Being that Amy spent most of her time alone, she figured out how to efficiently handle the projection anyhow. After attaching the film to the spool, she walked down the wooden staircase that led to the theater. She settled into the velvet red couch right in front of the screen and wrapped her knobby knees in an embrace against her chest as the film began and illuminated the room. _

_She often passed the time watching black and white movies rather than doing anything else. It was the only thing that pacified her, kept her from idling for too long, kept the bad thoughts away. _

_"_Darling, I make you only one promise_," the handsome, oval-faced Robert Montgomery crooned, his round, expressive eyes wandering over his lover. _

_"What?" Amy echoed the enigmatic Joan Crawford. _

_"_I'll never call you 'darling' unless I really mean it._" *_

_She pushed the glasses up on bridge of her nose and marveled at the faint crackling noise that was signature in the background of every black and white film. What a novelty colorless moving pictures were. Nothing looked so appealing as it did in black and white. _

_Amy realized if anyone bothered to capture her listless life with a lens, it would be black and white, too. _

_Maybe with splashes of red._

* * *

"Now, tell me. What else would you like to know?"

The excited chattering of the crowd faded and soon the only noises were the crunch of their shoes on leaves and twigs and the _pitter patter _of rain drops falling on the trees above them as Amy and Sheldon trudged through the woods. She quickly noticed that they were so far into the forest now that the thick foliage above them blocked the cold sprinkles of raindrops from touching their skin. Still, the air had a biting chill as it blew through her hair.

A question surfaced and bubbled out of her mouth before she could stop herself. "How far can we go into these woods before you get lost?"

Sheldon released a breath of air through his lips in amusement. _Pfft. _"Is that your first question, Amy?"

"Yes. How far are we going?"

Sheldon's eyebrow rose mischievously. "How far do you _want_ to go?"

Amy swallowed hard, struggling to disregard the double entendre. "I certainly don't want to venture so far that no one can ever find us should we get in trouble," she mumbled. She tightened her grip on the bouquet of flowers still in her fist as he led her further into the trees. No one was ahead of them anymore and the last of the lanterns that had been lit to illuminate the performers' paths were long gone.

Sheldon chucked. "Don't worry. I will let no harm befall you, Amy Farrah Fowler." He paused for a moment and looked down at her. She could see the round outline of his face, his skin so pale against the dark. "My turn to ask a question. Are you spoken for, Amy?"

Though she was initially ill at ease by the darkness around them, Amy was suddenly grateful for the veil of night that covered her sudden blush. She swallowed hard and shook her head even though he couldn't see her. "No, absolutely not."

"Then why would a young woman like you move into such an enormous home like the one on River Road all by herself?"

Was it time to reveal her life to Sheldon? She bit her lower lip as the question rattled in her mind. And even more pressing, did this man really have no idea who she was? Who Robbie Fowler was? Her instincts advised her to clam up. How could a person like Sheldon, so driven by theater and performing, not know who one of the most lauded actors of the last 20 years was? But Amy found herself ignoring her instincts for once. Her instincts were what drove her towards inversion, loneliness. For what seemed like the first time, Amy allowed herself to speak freely. "My father died and left his home, the manor on River Road, to me in his will."

"I am sorry for your loss," Sheldon whispered, not skipping a beat.

She shrugged, hoping that she would come off as aloof so that he didn't press her any further on the matter. She couldn't talk about her father, not yet. "I don't plan on staying here," she surprised herself by adding, and was even more surprised by Sheldon's violent reaction.

"What do you mean?" His pitch hiked and he held her in place as they stood in the middle of a dark path between the trees. "You're leaving? You've only just arrived!"

"Sheldon," Amy found herself consoling her companion, patting his arm gently albeit awkwardly. "I don't plan on leaving tomorrow. I just mean I came out here for a little distance, maybe some clarity from the mess my life had become." Again, she shocked herself into silence at how revealing she had become to this stranger.

"I refuse to let you go," he declared, linking their arms together again as they continued up the path. "What a terrible thing to say. You don't plan on staying here."

"Okay, sir," she said quickly, her voice taking a serious tone as his concern became a little too much for her to understand. "My turn to ask a question. Why are you so fascinated by me?" She bit her lip again. How pathetic and conceited she sounded! She tried to reword her question. "I'm sorry, I don't mean _fascinated_. I mean why are you so interested in me?" She cursed under her breath. "No, that's not what I mean either-"

"Amy," Sheldon laughed. "You were right the first time. I _am _fascinated by you."

Her heart whirred in her chest. "What? Why?"

"You're a fan of Shakespeare, are you not?"

"To a fault," Amy chuckled.

"And the sonnet I recited tonight?" She couldn't be sure since it was still so dark, but she could have sworn she saw him duck his head. Was the smooth-talking Sheldon Cooper suddenly shy?

"Yes, Sonnet 151," Amy recalled. How many times had she read those verses before, dreaming, desiring, how it would feel to harbor such intimate feelings for another. Wondering if it would ever be possible? She felt herself inwardly blush as well. "Why did you pick that piece to perform, anyhow?" Her pulse raced as she waited for him to answer.

"If you'll forgive me for being frank, Amy, I feel it best describes the sudden onslaught of feelings that have overcome me since I first laid eyes on you." Just then they stepped into a partial clearing, and the small break in the trees above them shone very dull light from the cloud-filled sky over his face as he peered down at her with an intense gaze. "Lest guilty of my faults thy sweet self prove; for, thou betraying me, I do betray..."

She finished the rest of the verse in her head. _My nobler part to my gross body's treason._ Sheldon was revealing to Amy that his attraction to her was very much so out of his hands. It was biological. No, _physical._ She was confused, elated, and embarrassed, all at once. Flashbacks of the solidity of Sheldon's body behind her as they stood in the barn last night flooded her senses all at once, making her dizzy.

It was then that Amy realized that Sheldon was not alone in feeling the way he did, and it shook her to the core.

"I don't know what to say, Sheldon." She forced herself to look up and concentrated on the blue hue of his eyes. A tumble of warmth suddenly spread through her extremities as something akin to the longing she once used to feel while she watched old films in her home theater during her youth jolted her.

"Say you don't mind, Amy," he said, his voice low and gruff. They had stopped walking and were now facing each other. She had become aware of Sheldon's hands, one placed casually at the curve of her waist, and the other smoothing a strand of her dark hair behind her ear. She had never been touched this way before. "I can be honest with you, can't I? Or have I crossed a line?"

"I don't mind," she whispered, closing her eyes as his smooth fingertips trailed down her cheek and fell to his side. "No, no lines have been crossed." _Yet_, she added mentally. Her eyes fluttered open behind her glasses and she watched Sheldon's lips curl into an easy smirk. _He's got me right where he wants me._

"Did that answer your question, Amy?" he finally broke the silence and pulled her along as they continued walking. Before she could answer, the pair finally came upon the tree line. Sheldon's home loomed before them, a massive castle crawling with loyal subjects running up the porch steps to get out of the rain that had begun to fall harder. Over the roar of the fall, Amy could hear the delighted squeals and cat calls of the crowd of performers as they scrambled inside.

"Ready to run?" Sheldon asked.

"Sure, hold on." Amy released her arm from his and placed her flowers on the ground before removing her jacket. She held it over her head to shield herself from the rain then bent to pick up her flowers again.

"What are you doing?" His voice was drowned out by the sudden crack of thunder in the distance. A second later, lightening flashed brilliantly above them, illuminating his face like a firecracker in the sky.

"Covering myself so my hair and makeup don't get messed up," she answered simply. She watched as Sheldon reached for her jacket and yanked it out of her grasp.

He stepped closer to her, lowering his mouth to her cheek. She held her breath as his low voice filled her ear, making her shudder. "Run in the rain with me." Then he straightened his frame, tucked her jacket beneath his arm, and reached for her hand. He broke out into a sprint and it took a few seconds before Amy's feet caught up with his speed. He held her tight as she lurched behind him.

She frowned deeply, knowing that the care she took to look nice tonight was for naught and now being ruined by the sky's shower. But then Sheldon looked back at her just as another roll of thunder dominated the atmosphere followed by a streak of lightening, and she swelled at the euphoric grin on his face. She felt her frown disappear and her lips curled in reciprocation.

"Woo!" she cried suddenly and let go of Sheldon's hand, running the fingers of the hand that didn't hold her flowers through her hair as the rain drenched them completely. They continued to run side by side as they gained momentum on the house.

"Woo!" Sheldon echoed and laughed. He stretched his arms out as they reached the middle of the lawn and caught Amy before she could run past him. Then he twirled her around like a dance, one hand at her waist and the other extending their arms to the heavens. Her flowers fell from her grasp, splaying out on the soil all around them as he twirled her again. She saw the colorful petals mixed in with the mud at their feet and then looked up at Sheldon as grinned down at her. No music kept their tempo except the crashing of the thunder and their stifled giggles. Amy didn't know how to dance, never had a partner in her life, so she shamefully stepped on Sheldon's shiny shoes, now covered in mud. But every time she pinched one of his toes with the flat of her foot, he would laugh harder and spin her. Now fully covered in earth from the waist down and soaking wet, she was sure that the two of them looked ridiculous, and it drove her mad with delight.

She had never felt this free, this open to possibilities. All from dancing in the rain with someone who found her just as intriguing as she found him. She should be terrified of a man who pushed her to do things outside of her comfort zone. But she only felt desire.

He stopped twirling her and brought both of her hands into his, squeezing them tightly. "This way," he instructed, leading her towards the house again. They reached the dry sanctuary of the porch and Amy shivered as the wind blew.

Sheldon handed her jacket back to her. "The rain looks good on you," he remarked, staring down at her with an almost hungry look as she wiped what she was sure was running mascara from under her eyes.

"Sure," she murmured. "I look like a wet alley cat." She held her jacket in front of her. It wouldn't do her any good now. She smirked when Sheldon laughed heartily, a wheezy laugh that made his shoulders shake. It was sort of an awkward guffaw, but she appreciated its sincerity nonetheless. "Do you have a towel or something I can use?"

"Inside," Sheldon said quietly, still studying her. She avoided his eyes as they roamed over her before stopping at her torso. She followed his gaze and blanched at how snugly her blue top clung to her curves, and how noticeable the hardened peaks of her breasts were as they pointed accusingly at Sheldon. Immediately, she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Shall I wait out here?" she finally asked.

"Don't be absurd," Sheldon said with a roll of his eyes. "Come with me. I'll get you that towel, a glass of wine, then a tour."

"A glass of wine first, please," she requested before allowing him to usher her into the foyer of The Coliseum.

* * *

After showing Amy many empty rooms and unused dining halls that the first floor of The Coliseum held, they snuck past the crowd of performers busying themselves with more drinks and food and Sheldon had led her upstairs. The wide hallway was lit by lanterns that lined the walls. She followed closely behind Sheldon as he pointed out all the closed doors on their left and right.

"More unused rooms?" she inquired, a black terrycloth towel wrapped around her shoulders and a glass full of red wine in her hands.

"Well, I wouldn't say they're _unused_," Sheldon said pointedly. "My guests make use of them quite often."

Amy blushed and Sheldon caught her expression before chuckling. He turned around and continued leading her down the hall. She berated herself for acting so virginal. She was nearly 30 years-old for crying out loud. Could she make it any clearer to Sheldon that he was the first man to openly show her any interest?

"This sort of reminds me of my house," she said, trying to change the subject. "It's full of closed doors and rooms I have yet to even explore."

"Why haven't you explored all of the rooms?"

"I don't know," she mumbled. "I guess I'm afraid of any surprises _behind_ the closed doors. No one has been in that house for the better part of two decades."

"Sounds like something we can have fun with," Sheldon mused. "How about tomorrow? I'll bring Howard and Bernadette and we can help you explore the house. You seem to get along well with them."

Amy crinkled her nose. She didn't relish the thought of inviting anyone to her house that was barely habitable enough for her and Shakespeare to live in. It certainly wasn't impressive enough for someone like Sheldon.

"I do like Howard and Bernadette very much. But I don't know. What if there are like dead rats or something? Or homeless people living in the closets. It's a big house, it's entirely plausible."

Sheldon scoffed then wrapped an arm around her waist. "All the more reason we should be there when you start exploring that humungous house. I can protect you."

"From a savage homeless person living off rodents and doing drugs? I doubt it."

"That imagination of yours," he laughed before adding, "I'll bring wine?"

"Sounds like fun," she gave in. They smiled before continuing down the hall to the very last room at the end of the wing. It had double doors and one was slightly ajar. "What room is this?" Amy was still not at complete ease with Sheldon's fondness of touching her, but she would be stupid to outright reject it. She emitted a silent sigh of relief when he pulled his arm away from her waist and walked forward towards the double doors.

"It's my room," he said quietly, stopping just outside of it. He stuffed both of his hands into his pockets and his back slightly hunched as he looked from her and to his doors and back again. She could tell he was wrestling with the potential of the impropriety of inviting her into his living quarters, especially after he had been so forthcoming with her in the woods. He toed the carpet beneath him and looked as though he was struggling with what to say next.

It would have never happened if she allowed herself to mull it over. Instead, she found herself studying his uncharacteristic shyness and felt a strong surge of confidence out of the blue. She didn't think about it at all before asking, "Does the tour continue in there?" Fluidly, as if they had a mind of their own, her legs moved forward and she walked up to join him at his door and placed her hand flat on Sheldon's chest. He peered down at her with wide, eager eyes, and she felt him slightly lean into her touch.

"If you'd like," he said softly. His gaze dropped down to her lips.

"Lead the way," she insisted, her voice falling to a throaty, flirtatious tone. She wasn't sure exactly where she wanted this to go, but one quick glance at his moist, rosy lips and Amy knew she wanted more than anything to be in his room, which would undoubtedly be the most intimate spot in the entire mansion.

"S-sure," he stammered and pushed the slightly open door out of the way so that she could step in first. She had seen enough movies to know that she was having an effect on Sheldon. And although she still couldn't be sure as to what he saw in her to make him react this way, she was enjoying it. She felt like a young Joan Crawford; saucy, playful.

When she walked into his room, she marveled at the warmth of the atmosphere. She saw a large fireplace with an almost extinguished flame burning a pile of logs. She turned away immediately, willing herself not to focus on the tiny embers. Sheldon noticed her flinch and gave her a concerned look.

"Would you like me to put more logs on the fire?" he offered.

"No," she answered quickly. "It feels warm enough." She gave him a weak smile and walked towards the four-poster bed in the center of the room. It was made of sturdy mahogany and was as vast as it was long. The scarlet colored blankets were neatly made and just the sight of the plush covers made it extremely inviting. She was about to compliment his taste when on the left pillow near the headboard, something caught her attention. "Is that…" she began to ask as she walked over to the side of the bed and gazed down at the object. "Is that my notebook?"

"It is," Sheldon confirmed. He had been silently watching her take in the environment, his hands clasped behind his back. "I found it in the stable where you dropped it, and was holding it for you."

"Thank you," Amy said, turning around to smile at him. She suddenly remembered the satchel she had slung across her body the entire night that held her new leather-bound journal. "There's nothing in it, you could have just thrown it away."

"No, I couldn't have," he said softly before walking towards the headboard on the opposite side of Amy. "If you hadn't shown up today, it would have given me an excuse to go see you."

Amy grinned as she picked up the notebook and flipped through the blank pages. "You didn't need a prop to come see me. I would have enjoyed your company under any pretense."

"Good to know." He smiled right back at her, a crooked grin that showed his top teeth and made her heart skip a beat. "So, would you like to have a seat?" He waved his arm towards the leather arm chairs in front of the fireplace, but his eyes inadvertently lowered to his bed.

To answer his question, she lowered herself to the mattress. First, she placed her wine glass on the nightstand beside her, slipped off her satchel and set it on the floor, then she removed her boots quickly and swung her knees around until she was fully on the bed. Her heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her ears, she stretched her legs out and pushed herself to the top of the bed, leaning back against the headboard. Sheldon watched her every move, and she could have sworn that for the first time since she met him, a pink shade of blush stained the tip of his ears and cheekbones. She smiled at him innocently and patted the mattress next to her. Then she put her hands in her lap and waited patiently as he mimicked her movements, first removing his shoes and then climbed on the bed himself. The king-sized bed provided them enough comfortable space that they were at least four feet away from each other, both of their backs to the head board and legs straight out in front of them, but just the intimacy of being in bed together, even without touching, was palpable.

Amy craned her neck and shyly met Sheldon's twinkling eyes with her own. He was studying her with a newfound curiosity, tinged with slight apprehension as though he was afraid of her, yet intrigued by her all at once. The way they faced each other, so close yet so far away, Amy couldn't help but feel like maybe, in some other lifetime, they had been here before.

"So who was next?" he asked after a few moments of silence. The room was dimly lit, the only lights from the dying fire across the room and the tiny lamps on either side of his bed.

"I'm sorry?"

"Whose turn is it to ask a question?"

"Oh, I don't remember," she admitted.

"Then you go," he suggested and then smiled encouragingly.

Amy hated to admit it, but even though the night so far had been nothing short of thrilling, one thought in the back of her mind kept threatening to surface. She thought back to the nearly an hour ago at the end of the performances when she was confronted by Penelope. She couldn't keep the frown off of her face as she realized that more than anything, she needed to know what was going on with Sheldon and that woman, especially if whatever _this _was, what was going on between Amy and him, was going to continue.

She reluctantly tore her gaze away from him and turned to the nightstand to pick up her wine. Bringing it back to the bed with her, she took a long sip before holding it in both hands between her legs.

"Amy?" Sheldon picked up on her trepidation. "You can ask me anything."

She kept her eyes low and studied the liquid in her glass. The warmth of the wine traveling down her throat and into her blood stream gave her a push of confidence. She opened her lips to ask her question and looked up to meet Sheldon's eyes but what she saw instead was something over his shoulder that rendered her silent.

"Amy?" Sheldon asked again, peering at her with concern. "What is it?"

Amy felt her eyes widen, the air in the room stinging her eye balls and causing them to water. But for the life of her, she couldn't blink. She couldn't close her eyes, she couldn't make a sound. Her hands trembled as there, just a foot behind Sheldon, stood Penelope herself. She wore a terrible grin, and her skin, her dress, her hair…were engulfed in flames.

"Amy," she mouthed as fire licked her lips, charring her once-perfect skin. "It doesn't last."

"Amy!"

A cold splash of liquid coupled with the sharp throb of pain in the pocket of skin between her thumb and index finger finally caused Amy to tear her gaze away from the sight of a burning Penelope and down to her own hands. She felt the mattress shift as Sheldon flew towards her and cradled her hand in his. Blood trickled down her wrist and onto Sheldon's arms as he held her hand up high. She realized that she had been holding her wine glass so tight that it busted and the glass cut her deeply. She whipped her neck up again to face Penelope but she was gone. Then her eyes flitted to the fireplace where the fire had finally died out as if it had never been lit.

"Lord! What happened?" Sheldon cried, still cradling Amy's bleeding palm in his hands. He pulled the towel off of the floor that had been around her shoulders and wrapped it deftly around her wound, holding it tight.

"She…" Amy began, her eyes frantically searching for any trace of the burning woman who stood so close to Sheldon that he should have caught fire, too. Before she could finish her sentence, she forced her eyes to focus on Sheldon's worried face just inches away from hers. He was imploring her with his eyes, no doubt questioning her sanity. In that split second, Amy's heart plummeted into her stomach. Sheldon didn't know that indeed, he _should_ be questioning her sanity. For Amy had very little of it.

Burning Penelope wasn't really standing behind him, watching them, warning her. It was all a figment of her imagination. But what was real was the searing pain now shooting through her hand and the spilled wine and broken glass on her lap. She quickly gathered herself and lucidity returned to her face. "I'm so sorry!"

"What happened?" Sheldon asked again, carefully moving around Amy so that he was still holding her hand tightly and climbing off the bed at the same time.

"Christ, I'm so clumsy," she laughed, a shrill laugh that she tried to keep the panic out of. "I was startled by a shadow behind you, I thought I saw something, it scared me. I must have grasped the wine glass too tightly. I'm so sorry, Sheldon." By the time she was done rambling, Sheldon had pulled her out of bed and led her into the adjoined bathroom. He twisted the faucet on and removed the towel from Amy's hand.

"What did you think you saw?" Sheldon demanded, his voice still high and taut with stress and he ran her palm under the cold water. She hissed at the new sensation of pain shooting up her arm, but refused to say anything that would deem her unfit to be in public, even though she knew deep down that this was true. Her heart was suddenly too heavy for her chest, and she swallowed hard, stifling back tears.

"Oh, I don't know, I get startled easily," she forced herself to speak, keeping her voice light. "I'm really sorry, Sheldon. I'm so embarrassed. I'll have your sheets laundered."

"Amy, I don't care about the sheets." Sheldon tore his gaze away from her bleeding hand and met her eyes evenly. "You didn't look startled, you looked terrified. Are you sure you're okay? You kind of left me for a moment in there."

She needed to go home. She needed her medication.

"No, Sheldon, I'm fine, please. Maybe I should just go home, I've already ruined your evening." She lowered her head and her hair fell over her face, creating a curtain between her blush and Sheldon's eyes. She inhaled deeply when she felt his wet fingers touch her cheek before pushing her hair out of her face.

"You didn't ruin anything, Amy Farrah Fowler." He looked at her with raw intensity, willing her to listen to his every word. "If you say you're alright, I believe you. But please, don't go."

Her breath caught in her throat as she realized that now Sheldon's lips were merely inches away from hers. His sweet breath washed over her face and she closed her eyes. How could she tell him what she saw without losing him? Well, she couldn't tell him what she saw, she realized. It wasn't real.

It wasn't lost on Amy that feelings she had never harbored before were surfacing for this man. But how could he understand what really went on in her head?

She foolishly thought that the fresh air and green forests would cure Amy of what ailed her. Her sickness wouldn't go away just because she relocated and found new friends.

This was the life Amy was doomed to live. Medicated. Dull. Listless, black and white. With the occasional splash of red.

She opened her eyes to see Sheldon watching her carefully. His lips were slightly parted, his chest rising and falling as he waited with bated breath for what she would say next. She had the overwhelming urge to touch him. She would risk another vision of a burning woman to feel his skin on her fingertips. Very slowly, with her free hand, she raised her arm and touched the side of his face. She felt his jaw, lined with a barely-there stubble of beard and heard him inhale sharply at her touch. His lids fluttered closed before opening again, and she saw his pupils dilate before her very eyes.

In that moment, she would not be able to leave him even if she tried.

"Okay, Sheldon," she heard herself. "I'll stay. Just for a little while longer."

He offered her a relieved smile before he let go of her hand and instructed her to sit down on the closed toilet seat while he retrieved the first aid kit from a linen closet down the hall. He left her alone and a few seconds into the silence, Amy closed her eyes again.

"It doesn't last," she repeated Penelope's words. "Nothing ever does."

* * *

*The film that Amy was watching, a fun flick starring one of the most handsome men of the black and white era Robert Montgomery and the classic Joan Crawford, is called _No More Ladies_, 1935.

**A/N pt 2: More soon! I won't leave you hanging for long again, I promise!**


	6. Answers

**A/N: Sorry this is kind of short but I simply could not sleep without getting this out. Love the reviews, thank you all so much! Enjoy ;]**

* * *

Amy wondered what Robbie Fowler would think of the situation she found herself in now.

She sat timidly on the closed lid of the toilet, her back straight and legs closed together while Sheldon brought a wooden stool and placed it in front of her as he tended to her. His legs were wide open to get closer to her body. Amy's knees grazed his inner thighs and she pursed her lips together as Sheldon took a pair of tweezers to her swollen skin, searching for pieces of stray glass. His head was down and his eyebrows were high as he looked down at her hand intently, gently turning it over between his fingers. One of his hands had a latex glove on.

They were silent for awhile as her pulse finally slowed to a normal pace and the last of the terror from her hallucination faded. The only noise that could be heard was their even breathing, the _tink _of the tweezers as they pulled small slivers of glass out of her skin, and the occasional roar of the crowd below them who were still drinking and conversing. Amy took the opportunity to study the restroom. It was very bare, white walls and pearl and black tile. The walk-in shower was situated in the corner behind Sheldon. It was a very clean lavatory; she could smell disinfectant. A lone white towel hung on a silver rack beside the ceramic sink.

"I don't see that you'll need stiches. The cuts are very shallow, but you're still bleeding a bit. I can wrap this up for you."

"Please," Amy agreed. He looked up and met her eyes then they smiled at one another. He reached down into the white first aid box and gathered gauze and ointment. While he worked, Amy occasionally looked over his shoulder, searching for any remnants of her chilling vision. She felt as though she were watching a horror movie; she was just waiting for the monster to pop out of the closet. She blinked a few times, expecting to see the burning woman every time she opened her eyes, and the image in her head gave her a chill. She involuntarily shuddered, which Sheldon mistook for pain.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, leaning his face closer towards her hand. "Just a few more minutes." As he came closer, Amy inhaled his powdery scent, mixed with a subtle yet effective spritz of cologne. She traced the array of freckles just below his tapered hair line behind his ears with her eyes. She imagined herself nuzzling her face into the curve of his neck then closed her eyes shut, suppressing the urge. "So," he spoke again, causing Amy's eyes to fly open. "Are you going to tell me what you really saw?"

"I…" Amy bit her lower lip and avoided his eyes. She craved his touch on her skin, even if he was just tending to her wound. And she needed him this close to her so that every breath she took filled her with a hint of Sheldon's fragrance. So she avoided his inquiry in fear that if she revealed the thoughts racing through her mind, he would order her away. "I believe it was _my _turn to ask the question."

He smirked, a close-lipped, teasing smirk that immediately made it difficult for Amy to remember her own name. "Very well. Proceed."

She blurted it out before fear caused her to subdue it. "What is your deal with Penelope?" She hadn't meant to come across so blunt, but it was the question she was going to ask anyway before her hallucination. Her teeth clenched as she weighed his reaction. She had to know.

He didn't even flinch as he finished applying the ointment on Amy's hands with the pads of his latex-gloved fingers. "My deal?"

"Yeah, well, I mean. Are you two a couple…or something?" Even as the words left her mouth, she knew how ridiculous she sounded. She was making the assumption that a man involved with another woman was reciting Shakespeare and sitting in bed with someone else. Could she be any more insulting?

As if he could hear her thoughts and agreed with them, Sheldon pursed his lips and his eyebrows lowered. His eyes found hers and he gave her a derisive glare.

"I know!" she started, shaking her head. "Stupid question. I just thought that maybe you two were involved. Every time I see you together, you two look extremely tense. And she's…"

"She's…?" he waited for her to continue.

"She's exquisite," Amy mumbled.

As she finished speaking, Sheldon securely wrapped her hand and wrist with the gauze, leaving her fingers free as the damage was only in the U-shape between her thumb and pointer. The numbing agent in the ointment had now dulled the stinging to merely a tingly itch. He was silent as he put his tools away into the first aid box and yanked his latex glove off, discarding it in the trashcan by their legs. Finally, he rose from his sitting position and walked over to the sink before washing his hands fervently. As he turned off the faucet and toweled his hands, Amy was afraid to look at his face, fearful that she would see anger or irritation on account of her presumption.

He walked back to stand directly over her. "You and I have very different opinions of what 'exquisite' is," he finally spoke, and Amy was certain she could hear the irritation in his voice.

Immediately, she began to wonder if Howard and Bernadette weren't too drunk to drive her home. She had a feeling she would need a ride very soon. She could feel Sheldon glaring down at the crown of her head, but she figured she would keep the little dignity she had left this evening and not meet his eyes.

"If you're saying Penelope isn't beautiful, then you must be blind," she affirmed.

"I did not say that."

"Well, then, we both have the same definition of beauty."

"I said we were at odds of the definition of 'exquisite'," he clarified.

With her head still down, Amy watched as one of Sheldon's hands made their way to her chin and lifted her face to look up at him. She was suddenly very aware of his proximity and how compromising their position would look to anyone who might walk in on them. She was at direct eye-level with his slim waist while she sat on the toilet, looking up at him expectantly, and he had his hand on her face as he stood over her. She swallowed hard and tried to concentrate on getting the conversation back on track.

"You still haven't answered my question," she accused, catching her breath. Her heart sped up when Sheldon removed his fingers from her chin and crossed his arms over his chest. He studied her for a beat longer before he sighed.

"Penelope and I are not involved romantically, if that's what you are wondering. She has always been fond of me more so than I would like." He folded his body and sat back down on the stool, meeting Amy's eyes evenly. "She is what society would without a doubt deem as beautiful." He licked his lower lip and cocked his head to the side. "But I have never felt for her anything more than an acquaintanceship." He clasped his hands together. "And I never will."

"I see," she said, nodding her head. "I guess I just assumed that you were an item because…" She trailed off, not wanting to give away the conversation with Howard and Bernadette earlier that evening. "Because every time I've seen you two together you seem to be engaged in an argument or a heated discussion. Like last night on the porch. And…"

He perched his eyebrow. "And?"

"And," Amy persisted. "Earlier this evening by the stage. She saw me waiting for you and wasn't very subtle about not wanting me around. Well, you were there, you know what happened." She sighed, suddenly very uncomfortable. "Do you suppose her anger has anything to do with me?"

"It most certainly does."

Amy's jaw dropped. "Really?"

"It seems that she has picked up on how drawn I am to you," Sheldon said with another signature smirk. When Amy got paler, the smile slipped right off of his face. "What's the matter?"

Amy shook off the eerie memory of her vision of a burning Penelope before focusing on Sheldon again. "I don't want to be the cause of a rift between you and your friend."

He scoffed. "I assure you, her unpleasantness is not something your arrival has spawned."

"So she _did _say something about me to you?"

"She is threatened by your presence," he said simply, shrugging his broad shoulders. "Can't blame her."

"Stop," Amy pleaded as she shyly looked away. "I couldn't even begin to compare to Penelope." She hated how self-deprecating she was coming off. But between her horrifying vision of the blond siren just minutes earlier and the struggle with self-image Amy had battled her entire life, she had a difficult time believing a dapper man like Sheldon Cooper could ever choose _her _when someone like Penelope was up for the taking.

As these thoughts pummeled her brain, causing an ache to ripple down to her temples, she suddenly felt Sheldon brace both of his large hands on her knees then slowly leaned forward, his lips stopping by her ear. "For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds…" His voice was creamy, tasty. Amy grinned at the floor as he breathed the next line. "Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds."

"More Shakespeare," she murmured. Her nerve endings were expanding, shrieking with delight at how close he was to her. He pressed on her knees with his palms, the heat coming off of his body warming her.

"Seems to be the only way I can convey how I feel to you," Sheldon said softly. And then he leaned away from her, straightening his back before he squeezed her knees again. "Penelope is a beautiful woman, a fine actress. But at her core she is jealous of what others have that she doesn't, even if whatever it may be isn't something she had ever coveted before. She allows her pride and unpleasantness to eat her from the inside out. She is not good." He brought one hand to his chest as he said _good_. "And because of this, she is _not _exquisite."

Amy nodded when he finished speaking, still refusing to meet his eyes.

"Come with me," he said.

She finally raised her eyes to meet his. "Where?"

"To the bedroom." The lower register of his voice kindled a swirling in Amy's abdomen. He rose to his feet and extended his hand to hers. She offered her uninjured hand after a second's hesitation and slowly stood up. "Careful," he warned, steadying her as she wobbled on her heels. "You lost some blood, take it slow."

"Sorry again about the wine," she said awkwardly as he led her out of the bathroom and back into his bedroom. She looked at the mess on the bed. "And the broken glass. And the blood." She frowned deeply. "And for being so nosy."

"No need to apologize," he assured her. He let go of her hand before he walked up to his bed and gathered the thick duvet in his arms, ripping it off the mattress and rolling it up to keep the broken glass from falling out. Then he carefully set the bundle of fabric on the floor. He turned back to face Amy and waved his arm at the bed. "Shall we?"

She hesitated for a moment, not willing to have a repeat of what happened earlier, but when she glanced up and saw how the dim light of the room hit Sheldon's lofty figure just right, her heart hammered in her chest and she felt compelled to climb back onto the bed and never get off. When she lifted herself and settled on top of the sheets, Sheldon nodded, happy with her following instructions, and followed suit. They situated themselves so that they were both sitting Indian style in the center of the mattress, facing each other and grinning like fools. "So what else would you like to know?"

* * *

Amy's eyes were fluttering closed on their own accord. Sometime during the last few hours, the rain had finally stopped pounding against the window in Sheldon's bedroom and the dull roar of the guests downstairs had completely silenced. She blinked once and sighed as her eyelids protested, struggling to stay closed. But she lifted them and once again he filled her view. They were now on their backs, finding their way to this comfortable position while they talked for hours about everything and nothing. Their heads had remained turned towards each other, and occasionally one of them would graze their fingers along the other's hand, giving them both something to feel as the conversation carried well into the midnight hour. Tiny shadows had formed underneath Sheldon's round blue eyes, giving Amy the impression that he was just as tired as she was. But neither of them wanted to succumb to their exhaustion, since it would mean that the night was over.

Fortunately, no more hallucinations of Penelope or anxiety crept up on Amy as she allowed herself to become better acquainted with the man before her. He had revealed that he was born and raised in southeast Texas by his mother and her parents, whom Sheldon affectionately referred to as Meemaw and Pop Pop. At 26 years-old, fresh out of grad school with a masters in business and terribly unhappy with his life and the lack of motivation to continue on, he was at a loss of what to do next.

"I was very nearly suicidal," he admitted. "My mother is a lovely woman, but she is a religious nut. She didn't understand me. She tried forcing me to partake in church and other things that I just did not believe in. She wanted me to take the safe route, always stay on the straight and narrow. I dreamt of bigger things. And one day, that bigger thing found me in the form of phone call."

He explained how a call from a law firm in Seattle had told him that his biological father, whom he had never met, had died and left him, his only son, some land in upstate Washington.

"If you had never met him, why would he leave you anything?" Amy asked.

"I wasn't sure at first. My mother was even more puzzled. She said she had met my father only in passing, which was always a hard story for me to hear. They met because his acting company, a very poor group of misfits that practically performed for peanuts and toured the country in an RV, had passed through Houston one month in the summer. It was a summer romance, she had told me after so many years of remaining mum on the issue. She said that after they courted for a few weeks and she realized she was pregnant, she told him immediately, but he would have none of it. He left her and she had never heard from him again."

"That's insane." Amy was completely engaged in his story, craving his history. "So how could he have known that you even existed if he never followed up with your mom or the progress of her pregnancy?"

"Good question," Sheldon said with a smirk. "I was curious of course to see what sort of land this virtual sperm donor had left me. I left home at once and traveled to the Pacific Northwest, interested only in collecting what profit I could from selling the land he had left and washing my hands of everything, starting over somewhere fresh. Instead, I found that the land he had left me was this very house."

"Amazing."

Sheldon nodded, eating up Amy's expression of wonder. "Long story short, my biological father came from money, and being that I was the only heir alive, it was all mine." He sighed and turned away, straightening his neck to stare up at the ceiling. "I found a map in one of the rooms down the hall," he continued after a moment, his voice becoming more animated, excited. "It led me to the theater in the woods. And in that moment, I knew that the life I was led to had purpose. It took months to make the stage presentable after years of misuse left it in disrepair, and even longer to find the other performers, but soon, my life had finally found its meaning. My calling." He craned his neck again to face her. "It was like this place, this _escape_ from reality, had been waiting for me all of my life. And I was home."

Amy froze at the sudden wave of familiarity that Sheldon's story provided. But she swallowed down the eerie feeling that formed in her gut and threatened to rise and reached out to squeeze his hand gently. "This place suits you."

"I can say the same for you." He smiled tiredly at her. "I've been talking for hours. Please, tell me more about you."

Amy stiffened as they finally arrived at the portion of the evening she had been dreading. If she could bottle this moment in time, their bodies close to each other without touching, the complete silence that enveloped them, this perfect, euphoric sense of calmness, she would. She felt so at ease with Sheldon and found herself desiring him in ways that she had never thought would be possible for her, ways that she had given up on ever feeling long ago. But if she revealed her truths, her past, her _life _to him, she was very sure that she would lose him. And she couldn't, not when she had just got him.

She found herself wondering how he couldn't know her. Her father's celebrity went hand-in-hand with the fact he had an imbalanced daughter. To know Robbie Fowler was to know the legend of Amy. And yet, the lost look on Sheldon's face made her heart swell. Perhaps coming to this place was her only hope to survive, a place where no one knew her and she could start over. Both her father and Sheldon's had provided an escape for their children, they had that in common. She was suddenly grateful for the man in front of her. He wanted to know _her _and not her past.

When she peered over at Sheldon what she saw was sanctuary.

"What if I told you that who I used to be doesn't exist anymore?" She watched his eyes go wide as she continued. "What if all there is to me, to Amy Farrah Fowler, is what you have in front of you?" He was quiet for a few moments, mulling over her question. Just when she was afraid he would call her nuts, he spoke.

"Then I'd say I would rather have this Amy than no Amy at all." He licked at his lips and his blue eyes shimmered slightly as they roamed all over her face, studying her as if he was seeing her for the first time. "And I'd say that after four years of living alone here, that you got here just in time."

She blushed deeply and buried her body further into the mattress. "What do you mean?"

"I feel something, Amy," he said quietly, his voice hoarse with sleep. "When I first saw you, when you stumbled out of the woods and upon my theater, I was intrigued just at the sight of you." He brought his arm around and flipped onto his side so that his entire body was now facing her. He traced his fingers down her face until they reached the tendons in her neck and lingered there on her skin. "But now that I've spent time with you, I'm addicted." He lowered his gaze until they reached her lips and he kept them there, studying the plump skin of her lower lip with purpose. "When you told me in the woods that you didn't plan on staying here long, I meant it when I said I wasn't going to let you go."

Amy daringly flipped her body as well so that she was lying on her side. She faced Sheldon and matched his intense stare. "I don't think I could leave now if I tried."

They were both watching each other's mouths now with a primal yearning that she could nearly taste. Amy knew what was coming next though she had never done it before. To kiss a man was unthinkable to her, being that she had never been around any man she found desirable. The men she longed to kiss were on the screen of the movies she watched. In the past, anyway.

But at that moment, as they slowly leaned into each other, Amy had never wanted to feel anything more than Sheldon's lips on hers. Before long, she felt his breath again on her face. He reached up suddenly and gently removed her glasses, folding them and placing them on the pillows above them. When he returned his gaze to her, he smiled shyly. Then he placed his warm palm below her jaw and slightly curled his fingers, cupping her neck before pulling her closer to him. And after what seemed like years, their lips finally met. She felt the smooth, silky inside of his mouth on her closed upper lip while he gently suckled on her bottom one. Her eyes were shut tight in fear that any vision of a burning Penelope or any other horrifying image waiting in the recesses of her mind would ruin this moment. Seamlessly, Sheldon continued to apply pressure, pressing his peppermint-flavored mouth against hers, their breathing in rhythm, their heads tilted at opposite angles so that they fit each other perfectly.

The hand on her neck became more insistent in pulling her closer and the feel of his touch set fire to her skin. A tumbling wave of pressure began in her stomach and expanded slowly, scaling every inch of her body as suddenly, Sheldon pushed his tongue against the line of her mouth, begging for entrance. And she granted him permission, slightly parting her lips to let him fill her completely. Her senses heightened at the slippery feel of his tongue against her own and on pure instinct, she laid flat on her back, pressing her shoulder blades into the mattress.

"Amy," Sheldon groaned softly, the abrupt departure of her lips from his causing him great distress. A split second later, he realized that it wasn't her intention to stop kissing him at all, but to invite him to a better position in which to continue. She gently tugged on his hand and led it to her hip bone, and Sheldon did the rest. He immediately pulled himself up and crawled over to her, hovering above before he lowered himself down and reattached his lips to hers. This time he didn't politely wait for her permission to use his tongue and it freely darted it into her mouth, probing every crevice like he was trying to memorize her.

She moaned into his mouth and carefully raised her arm with the injured hand above her head, while the other hand reached up and ran her fingers through his short hair. She innately bent her knuckles and gently scratched his scalp, causing a loud, purr-like noise to vibrate throughout his whole body which spanned the length of her. At that moment, she felt him push his hips into her side and the sensation of something rigid and thick rubbed against her stomach, both startling and delighting her. But being the novice that she was, she instinctively removed her lips from his, frightened by how carried away they had gotten. She froze beneath Sheldon's icy stare, his obvious arousal prodding the soft skin on her side where her shirt had slightly ridden up just below her breasts, exposing her ribs to him.

He glared down at her in confusion, wondering why their lips were no longer connected. But suddenly, as if a cold bucket of water had splashed him, Sheldon too suddenly became very aware of how far it had gotten. He exhaled slowly and shut his eyes tight, still hovering over Amy. "I'm sorry," he whispered. Then he rolled onto his back, immediately removing his hands from her. She turned her head to study him; his chest was heaving up and down as he struggled to catch his breath like he had just gotten done jogging. His eyes met hers and she could see how dark they had become in the last few minutes.

"No, I'm sorry," she said. "I just…I've never done this before." Shame threatened to add pink to her already flush complexion.

"Don't apologize," Sheldon insisted, his breathing finally regulating. "And for someone who claims they've never done this before, that was very, very good." He reached up and ran a hand through his hair, touching the spot on his scalp where Amy had grazed her fingernails and nearly drove him mad with pleasure. She giggled at his compliment and looked up at the ceiling as he spoke again. "If you're not ready to go any further, I completely understand. But it might be a good place to end the evening. If you continue lying in my bed like this, well, let's just say I've reached my gentleman quota for the day."

Amy laughed as Sheldon shook his head slowly, seemingly amazed at his own restraint. "I agree," she chuckled. "Should I call a cab?"

He did a double-take, perching an eyebrow as he peered over at her. "Are you kidding me?"

"I just…I don't want you to have to prepare a horse just to take me home, and I doubt Bernadette and Howard are in any condition to drive me…"

"Amy," Sheldon stopped her, shaking his head as he propped himself up on his elbows. "This is the 21st century, you know. I own a car."

* * *

The short break in the rain was good news for Amy. On the ride home, Sheldon left the top down on his silver Lexus, and the cool, wet air was welcome on her flushed cheeks. She closed her eyes as they winded down the road surrounded by lush forest on either side, and the fresh air filled her nostrils, swirled in her chest, and expelled out of her mouth. She lifted her arms up, the simulated feeling of flight as Sheldon sped freely on the pavement once again approaching her.

She arched her back and sighed then looked over at Sheldon who was sneaking glances in her direction. He looked completely at ease in the driver's seat, his body relaxed and one hand draped over the steering wheel. His lips were still swollen and tinted with a cherry-like color from their kissing. He was still in his nice slacks and dress shirt, but the once-pressed fabric was now disheveled. Every time he took his eyes off the road and placed them on Amy's body, he gave off the impression of a man dying of thirst. He watched her like she was the only thing that could save him.

"Amy," he called to her over the loud gusts of wind. "It's you."

"What?" she asked, her eyebrows furrowed.

"It's you," he repeated, glancing at the road before turning back to meet her eye. "You are my definition of _exquisite_."

Visions of burning women and nightmares of the forest on fire outside of her window be damned—there was nothing that could make her take her medication now. She wouldn't go back to who she was, where life was tasteless and bland, black and white. The life Robbie Fowler had created for her the last ten years that would have caused her to miss out on this. She grinned back at him and squeezed his hand that found hers in the dark.

Like she told Sheldon, there was no other Amy except for the one in front of him. For once, she felt like she was living her life in color.


	7. Cabin Fever

**A/N: Just a reminder—this town that I've set the story in is made up. And if it's actually real, that's purely coincidental (and lazy on my part for not researching it). Hope you guys are ready for this chapter. Enjoy ;]**

* * *

Amy yawned quietly and her eyes fluttered opened. As she regained consciousness after a long restful sleep, she felt many things at once. First, the warmth of Shakespeare's long, furry body propped up against her hip and leg. His cacophonous snores beneath the sheets immediately made her smile sleepily.

Next, she felt a stinging pain in her hand and realized the numbing ointment had long since faded while she slept, and beneath her gauze-wrapped hand the injury from last night was irritated and needed to be tended to.

Finally, Amy felt her stomach take flight as memories of her evening yesterday with Sheldon flooded her brain. When they arrived in her driveway, he promised to return to her tomorrow evening again to pick her up for that night's performances. She shuddered as she remembered how he leaned over the middle console as the car idled and lightly brushed his lips against hers. He pulled away quickly, his eyes darkening by the second and she climbed out of the car before they could start getting hot and heavy again. Then she floated on a cloud into her house before falling into a restful slumber.

Her eyes slowly closed and she rolled over to her back, away from the heap of covers and her sleeping dog and she found herself on the cool side of the bed. The new sensation of the uninhabited sheets against the skin of her legs made her body react in a peculiar way. Without quite understanding why, she drew in her ankles towards her body, her legs bent at the knees, and her thighs purposefully pushed together, clenching right in front of her. She felt her lower abdomen and center warm at the contact and then she let out the tiniest of moans. Sensations she had never felt before ran through her body like a tremor as she lazily ran her eyes up and down her legs. Although she could hardly see a thing without her glasses, she was suddenly very aware of the creamy skin on her fleshy yet defined thighs and the attractive curve of her hips. Hazy light from her curtain-less windows filled her room, creating a grayish blue atmosphere and she heard a rumbling of thunder in the distance.

She imagined what it would be like to have Sheldon in bed with her at that moment. Immediately, she pictured him running his hands along her legs in the same zigzag pattern that she was flicking her eyes over the skin. Then, she parted her knees slowly and closed her eyes as a clear vision of Sheldon appearing between her legs solidified. His blue eyes danced teasingly while in her vision, he lowered his lips and kissed her knees, then trailed down to her calves. She gasped as she imagined the vivid, wet feel of his mouth mumbling in approval against the skin of her legs. She ran her good hand through her hair while the fingernails of her injured hand grazed her soft stomach over her pajamas.

Her eyes abruptly flew open when the bed had begun to vibrate on account of Shakespeare's strange, sudden growls. She propped herself up on her elbows, blinking the sleep from her eyes as a figure came into view. Unable to make out what was in front of her, Amy reached over to her night stand and grabbed her glasses before slipping them on to get a better look.

Sitting on the edge of her bed, golden hair wrapped in a perfect, albeit stylishly messy bun, freshly applied make-up, and her fire-red gown, was Penelope.

"Stupid little girl, dreaming the day away." She smiled evilly, making eye contact with Amy. Then she looked down her perky nose at Shakespeare who had emerged from under the sheets with his tail sticking out of one side and his face on the other. "Woof," she said to him as growls continued to rack his body.

"Why are you still wearing your dress from last night?" Amy asked casually, not the least bit surprised to see the woman in her bed. At least this time, she wasn't on fire.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Penelope hissed.

Shakespeare barked, warning Penelope to keep her distance. The blonde woman did not move. She sat perched at the foot of the bed with her legs crossed, back straight, and eyes boring into Amy who was frumpy in her flannel PJ top.

"What is that mutt's problem?" she asked.

Amy nodded thoughtfully. She thought of Sheldon's hands and lips that had been on her last night, the way he looked over and called her exquisite. How she wanted to feel it all over again. She bit her lower lip and regarded the woman at the foot of her bed. Amy obviously wasn't well. "Should I take my medication, Penelope?" she asked.

At this, Penelope's features thawed. For a moment, she looked human, almost vulnerable. She turned her face away.

"Not unless you want to wake up."

Amy was afraid she might say that.

The butterflies and the warmth that thoughts of Sheldon had brought, along with Penelope sitting at the foot of her bed, disappeared. She heard another crash of thunder and watched her window as lightening crackled against the sky. Shakespeare continued to growl viciously and she peered down at him, sighing heavily. She realized that it had been the rain that he was growling at the entire time.

* * *

Amy sat at a table outside of a small café on the corner of the block. She slipped bits of her scone to Shakespeare whose leash was tied to her metal chair. Dressed in black pants with a white and black striped shirt, Amy knew it was a longshot that she would be recognized here, but tried to keep as inconspicuous as possible. Her jean jacket blocked out the chilly air, but at least it wasn't raining. The sky was an angry gray, dark and menacing even though it was only noon. She wondered if she could stand to be any paler, suddenly missing the spring time weather of New York. She looked down at her bandaged hand, a reminder of what was here, and she realized she didn't miss the sun that much. Placing her wrist on the table, she studied the newly wrapped gauze. It wasn't done as neatly as Sheldon's work, but it would have to do.

When she finally rolled out of bed this morning, she showered and dressed before pausing in front of the vanity mirror in the bathroom that held her medication. She was now on her second day of missing her doses. Aside from her hallucinations of Penelope and slightly elevated anxiety, she didn't feel very different. Except guilt when she remembered how she promised her father she would take care of herself after she finally left the institution and moved into the brownstone on her own; taking care of herself included keeping up with her medication.

"But you're dead, Pop," Amy said aloud just to hear something, remind herself that she was still there even though he wasn't.

She left the medication in the cabinet and walked downstairs to her bare kitchen. The few snacks that she had bought, cups of yogurt, bread and sandwich meat along with bottled water and several cheap bottles of wine, were not enough to live on. She figured she would have to go back into town soon and purchase actual food to cook and stock her kitchen with, but she took one look at the gas-powered stove and blanched. She steadily walked up to the stove and turned the knob for the burner, listening to the sharp clicks as the gas readied the fire and it shot up with a _whoosh_. The small ring of flames burned as the smell of the union reached her nostrils and she inhaled deeply. Slowly, she turned the knob again to extinguish the fire. She shuddered and breathed out. If she could control herself, there was no reason she couldn't live without her meds.

Detaching her hand from the knob on the stove, she peered over her shoulder, suddenly feeling very tense as though somebody was watching her. Shakespeare was sitting on the threshold between the dining room and the kitchen, staring up at her patiently. She studied him, waiting for him to growl or bark at the smell of an intruder, but when he did neither, she shook the feeling away.

"Want to go for a walk, buddy?" she asked him. He happily wagged his tail and she leashed him before grabbing her satchel and heading out to the car. Now they were here at the café, finishing brunch.

While her dog panted and people-watched, Amy studied the leather-bound journal she brought along. She poised her number-2 pencil over the page and scratched a few words that had been on her mind all morning:

_Hallucinate _

_Fire_

_Desire_

"Amy?"

She looked up quickly, slamming her journal shut. She blinked as Rajesh Koothrappali appeared in front of her, wearing a stylish black coat that hung to his knees, along with gray slacks and a white dress shirt beneath it. He looked very handsome with his hair slicked on the sides and styled high at the front, and for a moment, Amy contemplated not answering him, fearful that she was hallucinating yet another person.

"It's me, Raj." He peered down at her with a slightly worried expression, and again, Amy remained silent until she saw Shakespeare rise from his haunches and pad over to Raj, sniffing his hands and nudging his fingers in a friendly greeting. "Oh, what a nice pooch," he cooed, bending at the knee to lean down and pet Shakespeare's head.

"Raj, of course, hi," Amy sputtered, relieved that she wasn't seeing things for the second time that day. "I'm so sorry, you just caught me by surprise. How are you?"

"A little worse for wear to be honest," he chuckled, patting the head of her dog. He straightened his frame and put his hand in his pocket. She noticed his other hand held a briefcase. "Drank a little too much last night, and I had an early meeting today at work."

"Oh, no," Amy said sympathetically, slightly leaning her head to the side. "Would you like to sit down? I was just going to order a coffee."

"How kind of you to have me," he gushed, smiling widely as he pulled out the only other metal chair at the table and took a seat, setting his case down. Shakespeare watched him, his tongue hanging out of his mouth.

"It's my pleasure," Amy assured him. She smiled both at Raj and at herself for recovering from her initial awkwardness and inviting him to sit with her. _Deep breaths_, she commanded herself. "So, what brings you over here?"

"Taking a quick lunch," he answered. He immediately relaxed into his chair, crossing an ankle over his knee and smiling at Amy. "It's so nice to see a familiar face."

"Indeed it is."

"How are you liking Evergreen Falls?"

"It's…different," Amy said carefully. "Not different bad, just a different pace for what I'm used to."

"Where are you from?"

"New York City," she answered proudly.

"Ah, the Red Apple," Raj said with an impressed nod. Amy bit her lip to stifle a laugh. "What?" he asked, noticing her expression.

"I think you mean the _Big _Apple." She shook her head to dismiss his mistake as he lowered his eyes in embarrassment.

"Yes, of course." He cleared his throat and met her stare before they both erupted into laughter. "I've been in this country for 10 years and I'm still learning new things every day." He flagged down a waitress and ordered two coffees, specifying how he would like his prepared before he asked Amy how she wanted hers.

"No cream, but can you ground some cinnamon into it, please?" she asked the waitress, who nodded and walked away.

"Amy, what happened to your hand?" Raj suddenly asked, noticing her bandaged wrist and palm.

"Oh," she laughed dismissively. "I fell in the woods last night as we made our way back to the Coliseum. I'm okay though. Sheldon had a first aid kit." She blushed slightly, not sure if she should have mentioned that she was walking with Sheldon, but when Raj didn't show any indication of finding this peculiar, she relaxed. "It doesn't hurt, just a scrape." He nodded, satisfied with her answer, and they smiled at each other. After a comfortable silence, Amy could no longer hold back her curiosity. "Raj? You look awfully professional. If you don't mind me asking, what do you do for a living?"

"I'm a partner at the biggest law firm in the commonwealth, Sanford, Michaels & Berry," he answered with a smile, garnering a wide-eyed gawk from Amy.

"Amazing," she murmured, truly meaning it. "You seem so young…"

"I am," Raj laughed. "I'm only 30. But I had an accelerated education and worked very hard to get where I am today."

"I could only imagine." Amy wilted slightly. Raj was only two years older than her and achieving success in leaps and bounds. His last ten years were spent in academic and professional success while she spent the last decade in a stoic trance where she was prohibited from touching sharp or flammable objects. "Well, that's great, Raj. But how does an accomplished lawyer like you find himself in the company of stage performers at night?"

"I've always enjoyed the theater. And when I was ultimately invited to join, I thought I would give it a go to try and overcome my fear of speaking to women. An after party at the Coliseum helped me discover that booze helps me speak to the other sex. This was, of course, before Howard healed me by hypnotism."

Amy nodded, remembering the fascinating story. "How interesting. Have you ever invited any of your colleagues to come see you perform?" She sipped from her coffee as Raj stiffened.

"Hmmm," he hummed, abruptly avoiding eye contact for the first time since he had seen her. She noticed how he began to bounce his leg, causing the ankle he had crossed to quiver.

"I'm sorry," she said, noticing his obvious discomfort. "I didn't mean to pry. Don't worry, next subject."

"No, it's not that you're prying," Raj said quickly. "I just don't know if I'm breaking any rules here."

Although his accent wasn't so thick that she couldn't understand him, she still strained to comprehend what he said, thinking maybe she misheard him. "Did you say 'rules'?"

"Yes," he said carefully. "Forgive me, Amy. But did Howard and Bernadette not explain the rules to you?"

Amy suddenly sat back in her chair, her chin close to her neck as she eyed Raj questioningly. "No, they didn't say a thing about rules. What are you talking about?"

"Well," he started but then paused, looking over both of his shoulders before resuming. "Performers are not supposed to discuss the stage with outsiders. What we have in the woods is sacred, brilliant. But that's as far as it goes."

"Oh," Amy said, frowning. "Well, I'm not a performer."

"I know, which is why I'm unsure of what to say. I don't want to break any of our anonymity rules, but then again, you were welcomed by Sheldon Cooper himself." He brought a hand up to his chin, stroking the line of his jaw in thought. "We've had observers before. But they quickly became performers. Are you sure you don't plan on taking the stage?"

"No," Amy said assertively. "I don't perform. At all." She chewed on her lower lip before asking her next question. "Who makes these _rules, _Raj?"

"Well, Sheldon of course," he answered easily. He looked up and saw the waitress bringing their coffees, immediately pulling out his wallet and handed her a $20 bill and shook his head when she offered to bring back his change. When she was gone, he continued. "He makes the rules." He laughed before adding, "That makes him sound like some sort of dictator, doesn't it? No, Sheldon has the right idea. We try to remain very hush on our arrangement in the woods and the Coliseum."

"I see," she mumbled, making a mental note to ask Sheldon about these _rules_ when she saw him later. "But in remaining a secret, what is the appeal?"

"Isn't it obvious, Amy?" Raj grinned over his cup of coffee before taking a sip. "Mystery."

Amy grinned back in spite of herself at his impish expression.

"If too many people came or found out about it, it would ruin the exclusivity. Don't you think?"

"But you all are performers. I was under the impression that performers like to be seen, discovered."

"I think we're all there for the same reasons, none of which include obtaining fame," Raj said, his nose scrunching up when he said _fame_. "It's a cathartic experience, baring your soul to nature and a few of your closest friends. Can you imagine trying to do the same with a camera in your face?"

Amy could imagine this. She had grown up around cameras stuck in her face. Her father did it for a living. "I see your point," she conceded, taking another sip of her beverage.

After more silence, Raj sighed and looked down at his sparkling wrist watch. "Well, I'd better head back to the office. Will you be joining us tonight, Amy?"

"Yes, I will." She bit her tongue, deciding not to share that she would be attending with Sheldon. Suddenly, a shower of drizzle fell on them, accompanied by a boom of thunder just near them. "Wow," she said as she looked up and realized how much darker it had become in such a short time. "Weather permitting, of course."

"I would hate to get rained out tonight, especially since our performances were cut short last night," Raj huffed, squinting up at the sky. "Alright, I'm only a block away, so I'm going to start walking now before it begins to pour. Do you have an umbrella?"

"No," Amy said shyly, knowing how ridiculous that was. She had been living in one of the wettest areas of the continental U.S. for a week and had yet to purchase an umbrella. "But my car is right here at the curb. I'll see you later Raj. Thank you for the coffee."

"My pleasure, Amy." He gave her one last smile and ducked his head as he headed in the direction of his office. Shakespeare whined as he watched his new friend depart, and Amy looked down at him and rolled her eyes.

"Are you that bored with me already?" she asked him. She removed his leash from her chair and they trotted to her car to get out of the rain.

* * *

She stared miserably out of her bedroom window as thick sheets of rain pummeled the glass pane. The wind was blowing just as fiercely as the rain was falling, and the howling racket that accompanied it just saddened her further. Although it wasn't quite time for the sun to set yet, had she been able to see it at all, the atmosphere surrounding her house was pitch black and ominous. The huddle of forest beyond her property bent loyally to Mother Nature's fury, and Amy sighed at the sight.

It was evident that the performances would be cancelled tonight, which ultimately meant that she would not be seeing Sheldon either. And the fact that they had not exchanged phone numbers, Amy was near tears. She had truly been looking forward to another magical night with Sheldon, sure, but she was also beginning to develop a bit of cabin fever. After her trip to town and coffee with Raj, she had come home to an empty house of course, but had yet to discover any parts of the enormous abode that wasn't her bedroom, kitchen, or living room. There were still 9 rooms that were ready for exploration, and she was too petrified to walk down the hall in fear of what she would find.

Logically, she knew that if a homeless person was indeed feasting upon rodents and meth in one of the bedroom closets, they surely would have made their presence known by now. Again, Amy's head began to swim with questions, wondering just what her father could have been thinking to lead her to this tomb of a house on her own. She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. She suddenly felt very alone.

With emotion threatening to overcome her, she reached for her satchel that laid on her bed and pulled it on, deciding she no longer wanted to pace in her bedroom. She called for Shakespeare and he leapt off the bed, following her closely as she took the stairs two at a time until she reached the ground floor. Heading into the kitchen, she grabbed a bottle of wine from the counter, disregarding the need for a glass, and headed into the dark living room. She stopped at the mouth of the room, trying to remember where the light switch was again. Moving forward slowly, she pushed one arm in front of her, feeling for the wall. She bumped into something hard and gasped before remembering that it was just her arm chair, which she had moved out of the hallway and finally placed it in the living room, right front of the fireplace. A fireplace that she never planned on using.

"But aren't you cold?"

Amy froze as the familiar voice filled her ears. The hand with the wine bottle gripped the neck tightly and she slowly spun to search for the source of the voice. "Hello?" she asked timidly. A sliver of light poured out of the kitchen, illuminating the hallway and little else.

"Why aren't you going to use the fireplace?" Penelope asked again. Amy jerked her neck in the direction of the noise, but saw nothing except for the darkened corners of the large living area. "Scared of a little blaze?"

"Please, leave me alone," Amy whispered as she moved forward again, reaching blindly for the light switch on the wall. Outside, thunder rolled and her heart pounded in unison.

"Stupid little girl," Penelope giggled. "Dreaming the day away."

Her throat began to constrict as her hands ran over the wallpaper, and she winced as the gauze caught a nail in the wall and strained against her hand injury. "Fuck!" she cried, feeling the tumbling waves of panic begin to build up inside of her.

"Someone's here," Penelope whispered harshly right in Amy's ear, catching her off-guard at the sudden proximity of the voice. She gasped and tripped, crashing to the floor on her hands and knees.

Sure enough, a pounding sounded on her door and Shakespeare came hurtling down the hallway, stopping at the door and rising on his hind paws as he barked at the intruder on the other side. Amy blinked dumbly before scrambling to her feet. She gulped in deep breaths and reached out to the wall to steady herself. As her fingers pressed against the wallpaper, they purchased a smooth plate and the knob of the light switch. She flipped it upward and the light flooded the room. She peered around with narrowed eyes through her smudged glasses, looking around for any trace of Penelope. When she found none, she exhaled.

The knocking persisted and Shakespeare let out another long howl of alarm. Tearing her eyes away from the living room, Amy realized that someone was truly at the door and wasn't a figment of her imagination. She walked tentatively up to the foyer and placed her good hand on the brass knob. "Who…who is it?" she asked meekly.

"Amy?" The voice was nearly drowned out by the angry clatter of thunder, but she pulled the door open anyway, searching with blurry vision for what she hoped were blue eyes against a sea of darkness. She took a step back as a white arm reached out to her from the dark porch, followed by the towering body of a soaked man. His black hair was sloppily matted against his forehead and water dripped from his nose and cheeks.

She shuddered a breath of relief and closed the gap between them in one step, wrapping her trembling arms around his neck, relishing the feel of his damp, sturdy body against her.

"Amy, are you okay?" he asked, his voice soaked with concern as he walked forward with her attached to him, wrapping one arm around her waist while the other closed the door behind him. "You're shaking."

"You came," Amy whispered against his moist neck. In one ear, she heard her unexpected guest ask her again if she was okay, Shakespeare continued to bark, and the rain continued to roar. In the other ear, a whisper from somewhere behind her reminded her that _it doesn't last _before it silenced, finally leaving her alone with Sheldon.

* * *

He rubbed his hair furiously with a clean dish towel Amy had retrieved from one of the unpacked boxes sitting in the kitchen sink. She watched him, leaning over the counter with her chin in her elbow. He turned around and swiped the towel over his neck and arms, then finally rubbed his face before catching Amy's eyes with his own. "What?" he asked, feeling the weight of her intense stare.

"I'm just happy to see you," Amy answered with bold honesty. She let her eyes roam over him, studying his soaked dark jeans and red and gray checkered shirt that hugged his body. "But it was so dangerous to drive over here in this weather."

"I didn't have your number," he said simply, tossing the dish towel to the sink. He took a few steps towards the counter that she leaned on, coming closer to her. "I came to tell you that performances were cancelled tonight on account of the rain."

Amy let out a laugh as he gave her a goofy grin. "Gee, thanks. I never would have figured it out otherwise." It felt good to laugh, she realized, now that her heart had finally slowed to a regular pace. The events in the living room transpired so quickly she couldn't be sure if it actually happened or if it was all in her head. All that mattered now was that Sheldon had come to her when she had been at her loneliest.

"Well, I also came to tell you something else," he said softly as he folded his body and leaned over the counter as well, the partition the only thing separating them.

"And what's that?" Amy whispered as his face came closer to hers. He tucked his elbows in and leaned further until he stopped his lips right in front of hers. She closed her eyes as he spoke again, his breath washing over her face.

"This." He innocently pressed his mouth against hers, slightly parting his lips just enough to take in her bottom lip suck it gently. Then he pulled away and gauged her reaction, perching one of his eyebrows high in a devilish smirk.

Amy's eyes fluttered open as she returned his smile. "Message received." They both chuckled quietly. "Thank you for being here."

"Anytime," he promised. After a moment of silence, he turned away from her and looked around her kitchen. "Are we going to stay in here all night or are you going to give me the grand tour?"

"Oh," Amy said shortly, her heart racing all over again. Her legs were still shaking from her ordeal just before he arrived, and the prospect of inspecting the house frightened her. Not to mention she was petrified that she would freak out and have another hallucination at any moment. "I'm not sure…"

"Come on," Sheldon insisted, walking around the counter to her side. He held out his hand for her to take. "Don't be scared. I'll hold your hand."

After a moment's hesitation, Amy entwined her fingers with his, grasping his damp palm tightly with her good hand. "Don't let go," she warned, half-serious.

"Never," he said softly and winked down at her as she led him out of the kitchen.

* * *

"_Who are you talking to, little bear?" Robbie Fowler asked his eight year-old daughter as she sat on a swing in their backyard. _

"_Huh?" Amy grunted, looking up at her father through her tiny pink glasses. The sun shone brightly on her sleek, brown pony tail. _

"_I heard you talking, Amy," Robbie said before carefully lowering himself onto the adjacent swing. He looked down and smiled at her. "Your imaginary friends are back?" _

"_They never go away," Amy corrected him. _

"_Is it your bad friends or your good friends?"_

"_Which ones are my bad ones again?" she asked, squinting her eyes. _

"_The bad ones are the ones that told you to play with Daddy's lighter not too long ago," he reminded her sternly, furrowing his eyebrows. He watched as Amy pushed her feet to the ground and backed up, poising to swing. "Are those the friends you're talking to right now, little bear?" _

_Amy lifted her feet off the ground and swung back and forth. In one ear, her father asked her again who she was talking to, in the other ear, a woman told her to swing faster, higher and higher, all the way to the heavens. _


	8. River Road Manor

**A/N: I was a very sick girl for about a week and then life got in the way, but no excuses, tx-fictionqueen! I'm terribly sorry for the wait. I think you all may forgive me as you read on…enjoy ;]**

**P.S. I have a thing for Jim Parsons' hands. And you all might too after this chapter.**

* * *

Outside, the wind was howling and the rain marched steadily atop the roof. The creaks of the wooden floorboards beneath their feet creaked appropriately with each step they took. Shakespeare's pants accompanied the clicks of his claws as he kept up with the pair, nosily sniffing the strange man's ankles and on high alert as he became assimilated to the new guest. Sheldon was murmuring his impressed observations of the structure of her home. But none of these sounds were louder than the beat of Amy's fitful heart.

The warm sensation of his hand in hers, his hold firm even when they turned a tight corner to leave the kitchen and walk down the hallway, was transforming her, causing her to feel something inside that she had never felt before, things she never was prepared to feel for anyone.

Sheldon had come to her without her having to ask. He was real, not a figment of her imagination.

She peered down through her glasses and studied the contours of the delicate veins on his hands and the thickness of Sheldon's knuckles; his skin was soft in hers, almost creamy, but he had the hands of an experienced, masculine being. She gave an involuntary shudder; Amy very vividly remembered the feel of Sheldon's deliberate hands rubbing the skin of her pelvis through her jeans last night on his bed. Her eyes fluttered closed while the memory caused a warm glow to pool in her stomach and she felt Sheldon pause next to her.

"Amy?"

When she opened her eyes again, the two of them had arrived at the mouth of the living room entrance. She saw Sheldon just one step ahead, looking down at her with concern. She studied the slow rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, the tendons in his neck flexing as he swallowed, the subtle drag of his red, pointy tongue along his full, lower lip. These signs of vitality jolted her and she stared back at him hungrily. She abruptly dropped her hand from his and reached up, placing both of her palms flat on his chest. They slid up until she had a grip on the collar of his checkered shirt, the fabric still damp from the rain. In that moment she felt the elements surrounding them cease. Nothing existed except for this sudden craving.

"Sheldon," she breathed, her eyes focused solely on his mouth.

He needed no other indication; Sheldon's eyes went slack and his neck lowered until he crashed his lips into hers, placing both of his hands on her hips and roughly squeezing them.

All of Amy's fear and hesitation of letting him explore the house with her bled freely into a force that she was not familiar with. A longing to not only have Sheldon explore her house, but explore her as well. She moaned, appreciating his possessive hold on her as their kiss intensified, slipping her tongue between his lips. They walked backward clumsily, Sheldon moving his feet blindly in the direction that Amy was pushing him. She broke the kiss momentarily, pushing him down until he landed in her favorite leather armchair. He stared up at her expectantly and before she could talk herself out of it, she propped one knee between Sheldon's thigh and the arm of the chair and leaned forward, easily bringing her other knee up so could straddle him. His blue eyes went wide with surprise, but quickly darkened as desire took over. His hands flew right back to her hips as she carefully adjusted herself on his lap.

"I…" she began, her voice low and meek.

"What?" Sheldon asked, a hint of impatience staining his voice as he keenly studied her lips.

"I'm never like this." While she finished her sentence, Sheldon's large hands had dangerously migrated south from her hips and his fingers were now cupping her rear end. She shivered and bit her lower lip. Sensations were flying at her from all corners of the universe now and she was almost thankful that even at 28 years-old, she had never kissed another man. She was certain that with anyone that wasn't Sheldon Cooper, it would not feel this way.

"I have no complaints," he growled, diving into the crevice between her slender neck and collarbone. He nipped her lightly and she hissed, instinctively grinding her hips further down into his lap. She froze at the contact that her body was forcing her to make. He felt her stiffen and he reeled back immediately, his face repentant.

"I'm sorry. I don't want to force you into anything." His hands detached themselves from her bottom and Amy quickly began to panic.

"No," she protested. She placed one hand at the back of his neck and lightly scratched the scruff of hair there, receiving a grateful groan from Sheldon. Her other hand, trembling slightly, went to his bicep and rested there. "Keep your hands on me. But, just go slow."

Sheldon nodded in confirmation to her request. But instead of replacing his grip on her butt, he placed one hand at the small of her back, spreading his fingers so that he had a good hold on her. The other hand went to cup her cheek and he studied her with an unflinching stare. She wanted to look away as the intensity of his eyes caused her to flail with uncertainty. Was he angry that she asked him to slow down? Panic began to rise again and just as she was about to ask him why he stopped, he spoke.

"You have no idea how beautiful you are."

It was a statement with no hint of question, no room for argument. The hand on her face lowered to her throat and he cupped the side of her neck, bringing her closer to him. She closed her eyes as his familiar, clean scent filled her nostrils. Her wet lips went cold as his breath washed over her face. "And you also have no idea how badly I want you right now."

Amy could have argued with that point, as evidence to support his claim nudged unabashed between her legs.

"Kiss me, Sheldon," she demanded as her breathing kicked up, the tips of her breasts barely grazing his chest.

"I am going slow, per your request." With that, he released his hold from her neck and leaned back into the arm chair, creating a distance between them.

She narrowed her eyes and frowned petulantly. "Not that slow." Her frown only deepened when Sheldon chuckled, his mouth closed tight as he smiled at her.

"I'm not trying to tease you, Amy. Believe me, this is killing me. But I agree that we should go slow." She opened her mouth to protest but he silenced her, leaning forward quickly and pecked her on the lips with his. He fell back again and perched an eyebrow at her. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm not going to change my mind. But you deserve to be courted, appreciated. There will always be time for kissing. And soon, time to…well, you know." He glanced down suggestively at his lap where Amy was still resting and gave a shrug. "But not now."

"I should have just kept my big mouth shut," Amy huffed, pushing herself up and off of Sheldon before standing up on wobbly legs in front of him. She looked down dejectedly and was sure that revealing just how much of a virgin she was to him was the final nail in the coffin. He swiftly got up on his own feet and faced her. Then he hooked his finger under her chin, forcing her to look up at his face.

"Funny you should mention your mouth," he murmured, looking straight into her eyes. "The very part of your body that kept me _up_ all last night." He pressed his body flush against hers, bracing her back again with his free hand. "Don't ever shut your mouth. It's so much better when it's open."

Before Amy could completely crumple to the ground under the weight of his bold innuendo, Sheldon wrapped both arms around her waist and leaned down to kiss her again. She realized in that moment that going slow might not be too bad. She would never get tired of this slow burn.

_It doesn't last._

The warning entered her mind, scrolling on the lids of her closed eyes as Sheldon deepened the kiss. Is this what Penelope was trying to tell her wouldn't last? As if answering her own question, she wrapped her arms tightly around Sheldon's neck, daring anyone or anything, hallucination or force of nature, to separate them.

* * *

It was a few minutes before they finally broke the kiss, Sheldon sadly staying firm on his promise to go slow. He removed his hands from under the hem of her t-shirt and she unclenched her finger nails that had found their way under the collar of his shirt, scratching his skin. After they caught their breath and readjusted their clothing, eyeing each other shyly, Sheldon intertwined his fingers with Amy's once again and looked around the living room, taking in the bare walls and floors.

"Are you sure this is just a living room?" he inquired, his eyes shifting to every corner.

"Why do you ask?"

"This is large enough to be a ballroom, really. Look at all this space." He motioned with his arm as though Amy hadn't seen it with her own eyes before.

"I guess," she said as she shrugged, not truly impressed by the size. She watched him as he looked at the windows.

"You have one chair and no drapes," he said flatly. "You're like a bachelor."

"The most pathetic bachelor in the world," Amy laughed easily, her heart rate finally slowing down to a normal pace. She followed his gaze that was suddenly on the floor as he noticed an object that was out of place.

"There's a broken wine bottle on the ground." He pulled her with him by the hand as he walked over to the shattered bottle beneath the light switch on the wall. Immediately, Amy went red with embarrassment. Before he got there, and right before she had a hallucination of Penelope's voice, she had planned to sit in her one chair in the middle of the living room and drink herself to sleep. Next to the broken glass and red liquid was her satchel with her journal in it. She didn't have an explanation for how pathetic it all looked, and she waited, holding her breath until Sheldon turned around to look at her, question flashing across his eyes.

"I dropped it when you knocked on the door," she said quickly. "The noise startled me because I wasn't expecting you." _Believable enough_, she convinced herself. Still didn't explain why there was a full bottle of wine on the ground and no wine glass in which to moderate her intake with.

"Oh," Sheldon said, looking down and toeing the shards with his boot. His eyes flitted over to her hand, the one that was still bandaged from her episode with broken glass on his bed the night before. She hid it behind her thigh on impulse. As if sensing her discomfort, Sheldon nodded, dismissing the obviously questionable behavior. "Should we clean this up before we continue on our tour?" he asked nonchalantly.

She smiled appreciatively. "No, that's quite alright. I can clean it up later." She squeezed his fingers with hers and began to pull on his arm. "Let's go. We've got a lot of house to cover and we've already lost daylight."

"Fair enough," Sheldon relented and allowed himself to be led away from Amy's mess.

"There are three rooms downstairs that I've already gone through," Amy began, her voice light as they left the living room and reentered the hallway. "They were empty thankfully, except for dust."

"I see."

"I guess I plan on keeping them that way, or maybe converting one into a guest room." Amy led him to the room at the end of the hallway. "This one, though, is my favorite in the house."

She used her free hand to open the door all the way, the musky smell of abandon hitting them both in the face. She felt around for the light switch, letting go of Sheldon's hand. When she found it, she flipped it up and the bulb flickered from the ceiling before flooding the small area with light. Just then, a flash of lightening bolted across the outside sky and Sheldon gasped as he saw it clearly through the wall that was covered entirely by one large, glass window.

"Amy, this is wonderful," he mumbled, stepping forward to press his hand against the glass and watched the rain pound the earth from inside. Amy joined him and pointed up, showing him the greatest feature of this part of the room. The large window slanted upward at an angle, creating a dome-like shape that encased them. As they looked up, the rain fell from the sky and pummeled the glass above them.

"When I first saw this room, I thought it might have been added as a greenhouse or something, all this open space. But of course, I wouldn't know. I've never been here before, even though this house belonged to my grandparents. My father grew up here, though he never mentioned this place in great detail." She sighed, shrugging off the hint of nostalgia that crept up on her as she remembered her father. Sheldon looked down at her with a kind smile, waiting for her to continue. "Anyway, I figure I could use this room to write. You probably can't tell right now because of the storm, but from this room, looking through the window, you have a beautiful view of the forest and the inlet from the sound. Quite inspiring."

"I agree," Sheldon said right away, looking out into the rain. "Very inspiring." After a few moments of appreciating the rain, Amy cleared her throat.

"Ready to see more?" she asked, and when he nodded enthusiastically, she couldn't help but laugh. "I'm really happy you're here, Sheldon." The sentence poured out of her lips without putting any thought into it and she blushed slightly. "I was dreading doing this, you know. Exploring. But you were right; it is a little easier knowing that you're here."

"My pleasure," he assured her, grabbing her hand again. "Upstairs now?"

"Yes."

They walked out of the room in companionable silence and when they got to the foot of the stairs, Amy realized that she hadn't seen Shakespeare in quite some time. She stopped before Sheldon could pull her up the steps with him and her brows furrowed.

"What's wrong?" Sheldon asked.

"My dog," she said absently, immediately loosening her grip on Sheldon's hand. She walked away towards the living room where the light was still on, but saw no trace of him. "Shakes!" she called, clapping her hands together once. "Come!" She heard Sheldon come up behind her as she placed her hands on her hips and listened for her dog.

"I hear his collar tags jingling," Sheldon said suddenly, turning on his heels and heading for the stairs. As he ascended the steps, Amy listened again, but didn't hear the jingling that Sheldon was talking about. He soon disappeared into the darkness of the upstairs hallway and Amy blanched, realizing that she was downstairs alone. She looked over her shoulder and her eyes raked her surroundings, listening for any noise that would lead her to her dog.

"Shakes," she called again, her voice slightly weak with fear. "Come, boy." Her blood was suddenly cold and she realized that she never had to call her dog more than once before he arrived at her side. And she still couldn't hear the sound of his tags like Sheldon has said he did.

"Amy?"

She gripped the railing of the staircase and lifted her neck up towards the second floor as she heard Sheldon call her name. "Sheldon?"

"Amy, come here."

Her breath coming in short, Amy chastised herself for being a coward and forced her legs to move up the stairs.

_What is your problem? _she demanded of herself. _You walk up these stairs to your bedroom every day. _She reached the top step, her legs shaky, when she called out for Sheldon again.

"I'm over here," he answered from one of the doors down the hallway. The first half of the hall was dark so she followed the sound of his voice until she saw the light from her bathroom pouring out of the open door. She froze as panic flooded every inch of her body. What was he doing in her bathroom?

_My medication_, she lamented internally as her legs suddenly began to work again and she hurried towards the light. When Amy reached the door, she looked in and saw that it was empty. She immediately went inside, heading towards her vanity mirror and opened it to see if any of her meds had been moved or disturbed. Even though she had not taken them in a few days, she had studied them every morning when she woke up, going back and forth with herself on whether or not she should take them, so she knew exactly what position they were in. Everything was untouched and she let out a _whoosh_ of relief, her breathing stabilizing. She must have left the light on when she was in here earlier. If she had walked in on Sheldon holding her medication in his hands, she wouldn't have known what to say. Amy was not ready for him to explore _that _part of her just yet. She closed the mirror and braced herself against the sink with both of her hands.

"Amy!" Sheldon called again, more urgent this time. She craned her neck to the left and followed his voice again, out of the bathroom and into the hall. She looked down towards her bedroom and saw that the door was slightly ajar. When she arrived, she pushed it open all the way and saw Sheldon standing there with a piece of parchment in his hands and a very puzzled look on his face.

"What is that?" she asked while she looked around the room for Shakespeare. "Was Shakes in here?"

"No," Sheldon said softly, his eyes roaming over the tattered paper in his hands still. "I thought I heard him so I came in here. I see that it's your bedroom and I'm sorry for intruding."

"No," Amy said. "It's okay." She waited until he finally tore his gaze away from the paper in his hands and met her eyes. "Where did you get that?" She pointed with her chin towards the paper though she had no idea what it was.

"I was hoping you could answer me the same question." Sheldon suddenly looked unhappy and slightly uncomfortable.

"Okay," she said slowly, walking towards him as he held the paper out to her. She took it carefully and gave him a questioning look before lowering her eyes to study it. At first glance, it looked like a treasure map from a cartoon like Peter Pan, a thick, dotted line swirling until it met the bottom corner of the paper with a big red _X_.

"I have no idea what this is," she said immediately and turned it in her hands to look at it from a different angle. At the top of the page, the dotted line began at the foot of a sketch of a large mansion with four columns holding it upright. She gasped as the familiarity of the mansion resonated.

"The Coliseum," Sheldon supplied, his voice quiet yet taut. Amy's neck snapped up and she tried to read the distant look on his face, but he urged her to keep looking at the paper. She did, and she traced the dotted line with a finger until it came into contact with a sketch of the large forest. It twirled around through the trees until Amy saw the big red _X _again. She assumed from the positioning of the destination, that this was a map to the theater. She scoured the edges of the paper until she saw a continuation of the dotted line with the words _River Road_ sprawled above it. The name of the street she lived on. Sure enough, at the end of River Road where the dotted line led was a sketch of Amy's manor.

"It's a map to the theater, just like the one I found at the mansion my father left me." Sheldon's voice was still slightly on edge, more so than Amy would like. She didn't understand why, but she was beginning to become uncomfortable with his tone.

"Sheldon," she breathed. "Where did you find this?"

"Like I said, I thought I heard Shakespeare in here," he explained again. "And I saw this rolled up on your bed."

"No," Amy protested, shaking her head as she understood suddenly why Sheldon was coming off as suspicious. "I've never seen this in my life. I didn't put it on my bed." Her voice was shaking fervently and she looked hard at Sheldon, willing him to believe her.

"Okay," he said without commitment. "Well then, who did?"

"I don't know," she said testily. "I have no idea." Before she could get worked up, she exhaled slowly. She inhaled just as slow and gave Sheldon a concerned look. "You're sure this was on my bed?"

"Yes," he answered honestly, his hands behind his back as he slightly hunched forward. "I didn't snoop around."

"I didn't mean it to sound like I was accusing you of something," she insisted. "I'm just, at a loss for words. I have no idea how this got in my house, let alone on my bed." With that, she walked past Sheldon and over to her mattress where she sunk down and stared thoughtfully at the paper in her hands again.

"Do you know what it means to be in possession of this map, Amy?" Sheldon asked after a long silence. She looked up at him expectantly as he walked towards her, his hands still clasped at the base of his spine. "Whoever left you that map was giving you an inheritance. The theater in the woods was built for us to take over."

"Wait, wait," Amy muttered, shaking her head in protest, out of confusion, or maybe both. "Hold on. For _us_?"

Sheldon carefully took the map from her and studied it front and back before his shoulders relaxed a bit and his face softened. He peered down at her apologetically before he spoke. "Upon further inspection, this isn't my map. It's almost an exact copy, but mine has my initials sketched at the bottom corner. This one has yours."

"What?" Amy felt the air around her get a bit thinner as she tried to come to terms with what Sheldon was trying to tell her. He shoved the paper towards her and pointed at the bottom left-hand corner of the parchment, where sure enough, _A.F.F._ was crudely drawn. "I don't understand."

"Amy," Sheldon said slowly before deciding to join her on the bed, sitting right next to her. He turned and faced her. "I'm sorry for coming off as cross. You have to understand that it was a shock to see something that was previously in my possession suddenly in yours. But this is not the map that was drawn for me. This was drawn specifically for you." He watched her as she continued to shake her head back and forth, staring at the window on the south wall of her room but not really seeing anything. "Do you know what this means, Amy?"

"No." She felt Sheldon's warm hand snake under her clenched fist and force her fingers to splay open so that he could hold her hand. At the contact, her trance was momentarily broken and she turned her face to look at him. His expression had brightened considerably as he continued.

"This means that you and I own the theater." When Amy stared at him blankly, not comprehending, he huffed slightly and licked his lips. "Amy, this means that this wasn't an accident. You coming to Evergreen Falls then wandering into the forest and happening upon the performances was not a coincidence. You _belong_ here."

At those last three words, Amy recoiled slightly from him. "Sheldon, I've never been here in my life. My father was raised by his parents until he was sixteen and he ran away to California. I wasn't even a thought in his mind when he was a teenager. How could I _belong _here?"

"I don't know, Amy," Sheldon answered truthfully, his blue eyes rolling up towards the ceiling as he became lost in his own thoughts for a moment. "But I still had a map waiting for me when I inherited my mansion and my father didn't even know I existed, remember?"

A slight chill rolled over her body as Amy struggled to think of a logical explanation. She lowered her eyes to the corner of the map that had her initials inked in, plain as day. "What does it mean, that I _own_ the theater?"

"I'm assuming this means you have a say in what gets performed and a responsibility in maintaining the sanctity of our set up, just like I do," Sheldon said distractedly, his eyes still looking up to the ceiling. "This is fascinating."

"No," Amy disagreed. "This is wrong. I'm…Sheldon, you don't understand. My father never would have left me with such a huge responsibility."

"He left you with this house, did he not?" he countered, his eyebrows high on his forehead.

"Yes, but…" Amy trailed off, not sure how to explain to Sheldon just how baffled she was by Robbie Fowler leaving her this manor without explaining that just one year ago, she was being discharged from a mental facility that had been her home for the past decade. There was simply no explanation as to why her dad left this here for her. "Sheldon, I don't want this responsibility. It's yours."

"Amy," Sheldon began, softly pulling the parchment from her hands and tossing it behind him. He then brought both of his hands around and placed them on hers, giving her something to hold onto as she felt herself flounder. "You were brought here for a reason. I saw this theater as a sanctuary for me in an otherwise dull, ordinary life. A creative outlet for me and the people I've met to express ourselves freely. Do you know what it's like to have something build up inside of you with no hope for release?"

Amy was startled at his question for a moment before she nodded slowly. She knew exactly what that felt like.

"Well," he continued. "So do I. And so does Rajesh, Howard and Bernadette. Even Penelope." At this name, Amy's eyes widened. Sheldon didn't seem to notice. "Providing this theater is an opportunity for all of the performers to have a cathartic experience. It's a service, really. Not so much a responsibility. It's great, Amy. Don't be afraid." He lifted his hand and smoothed a strand of her hair behind her ear. "This is exciting. It's our theater to share. You and I."

Although Amy liked the sound of _you and I _leaving Sheldon's bow-shaped lips, she was still skeptical. He had no way of knowing this, but Amy came to Evergreen Falls to escape her reality, to escape her infamy as Robbie Fowler's troubled daughter and leave behind whatever it was that made her crazy, but she wasn't faring too well on that front, with all the hallucinations of Penelope plaguing her. But with the sudden appearance of this enigmatic map, Amy feared she wasn't any closer to leaving her past behind as she had hoped. The sight of the map made her feel cold all over. It meant that someone knew she would end up here someday. Someone had her right where they wanted her.

She abruptly looked up at Sheldon and studied his face. His eyes were friendly, warm and even slightly in awe of her. She wanted to tell him everything, her fears, her daunting feeling of impending doom breathing at her neck, but how could she without sending him running for the hills? How could she try to explain to him something that not even she fully understood?

She wished her father were still around to answer these questions for her.

"Hey," Sheldon said suddenly, lifting his hand again towards her. She thought he was going to touch her hair again but instead he pressed his fingers to her cheek and wiped away something wet. "You're crying." His face suddenly fell, concern dominating his once excited features.

"Sorry," she said as she swiped hastily at her eyes. "I'm just, confused is all."

"Don't be," Sheldon insisted. "Amy, I'm not dense. I know there are things about you that I have not even begun to scratch the surface in order to learn. But I'm willing to wait it out. To be here, with you, until you are ready to open up to me." He placed a hand on her neck, curling his fingers around her throat beneath her ear in the possessive way that drove her crazy. She closed her eyes as he continued. "You are worth the wait."

Amy felt her heart palpitate as her eyes fluttered open. "Thank you," was all she could say, feeling the weight lift slightly off of her shoulders. The pressure to reveal everything to him was kept at bay for the moment. She took a few deep breaths and finally felt the tears stop flowing. She wiped at her face one more time before looking up and smiling at Sheldon gratefully.

"I'm sorry for freaking out. This is all just a lot." She chewed on her lower lip, hesitating for a moment before deciding she could let Sheldon in just a little further. "I was just thinking about my father."

"I'm sure you were," Sheldon said sympathetically, leaning his head to the side. "You just lost him. I'm sure you miss him every moment of every day."

Instead of saying anything, Amy just nodded. "It helps though, now that I know you."

"What do you mean?"

Amy thought about the first night in the stables with Sheldon, when she took his hand and imagined an invisible tether joining them together. "Since I lost my father, I've felt suspended. Floating around, no anchor to this earth. Extremely alone." She sighed and added, "And then I met you."

"It's funny you should describe yourself that way," Sheldon said with a longing in his eyes. "I've felt that way my whole life. Like I was watching my life happen from the outskirts, never truly belonging to anyone or anything. I felt that the inheritance of my fortune, my mansion, and the theater was a chance for me to finally feel part of this world. But nothing has ever made me feel real and _alive_ than having met you, Amy Farrah Fowler." He paused, waiting for her to meet his eyes. "My father gave me a task. You give me purpose."

Amy felt like Sheldon extracted this sentiment out of her own mind for how similar she felt about him. She couldn't be sure if it was Robbie Fowler that brought her here to this moment, or some unknown player that she had yet to discover, but she suddenly didn't care. She was here, just as real and alive as Sheldon was holding her hand. She was about to say something when she heard the familiar jingle of collar tags from outside of her bedroom. A split second later, Shakespeare appeared in her doorway, his heavy tail thumping erratically against the frame and his tongue hanging out of his muzzle. He did a full body shake before stretching his four legs and happily padding over to Amy and Sheldon.

"Hey, you," she greeted him, relief and amusement overcoming her. She smiled as her Lab burrowed his nose underneath her and Sheldon's joined hands, successfully separating their fingers and resting his brown, furry head between them.

"Someone's jealous," Sheldon cracked, his smile wide and sincere as he gently patted her dog's head.

"He's the man," Amy laughed lightly, peering admiringly at her canine companion. "Where were you, Shakespeare? Huh?" She was only half-serious as she looked into his black eyes like she was expecting an answer. Sheldon had said he heard the sound of her dog's tags which led him into her bedroom, but he obviously hadn't been in here. She shook her head, unsure of what made sense anymore and what didn't.

"He probably got tired of waiting for us downstairs," Sheldon suggested, waggling his eyebrows at Amy meaningfully. "You know, when we were on the leather arm chair and you were distracting me."

"Sorry, I don't know what you're talking about," she replied coyly, rubbing Shakespeare's flank and avoiding Sheldon's eyes.

"Shakespeare, you might want to take a knee. Your mother needs a little reminding."

Amy's giggles were drowned out by the crashing of the thunder outside her window as Sheldon leaned over her, flattening her body with his own as they fell back on the mattress and he covered her neck in kisses. Shakespeare barked angrily at the rain and sat on his haunches, faithfully keeping watch at the foot of the bed while Sheldon and Amy's playful tickling slowed considerably as their lips met once again.

She had a feeling this house held more mysteries than unopened doors and hidden maps. But whatever other mysteries were in store, right now, as she lied flat on her back, her legs slightly spread open as Sheldon lowered his fully clothed body into hers, pinning her arms above her head with one of his large hands while his lithe tongue ignited a fire on her lips, they could wait.

The world could wait.


	9. The Daughter of Farrah Holt

**A/N: College sucks because it's taking my time away from you all. I am so sorry for the delay. Midterms will be over next week so more frequent updates should hopefully come. In the meantime, thank you guys so much for your amazing feedback. There are just no words to appropriately express my gratitude!**

**Warning: This chapter may, in some eyes, dangerously toe the line between a 'T' and 'M' rating. If you don't like that…sorry! Try to enjoy it anyway. ;]**

* * *

_Amy waited patiently as she sat in a blue plastic chair in the receiving area with her red suitcase resting at her feet. Her Pop said he would be there to pick her up and take her home at noon and it was only 11:40AM, so there was plenty of time. _

_She wondered how the air would taste today._

_Amy was hardly a prisoner, not physically at least. She was allowed to roam outside in the grounds of the facility and have time to herself. Pop had always told her he was envious of her, all protected and tended to inside the walls of the facility while he was cursed to deal with the demons of everyday life by himself on the outside. He paid lots of money to keep her here, the most recommended and isolated mental health clinic on the east coast. Her room was comfortable, airy thanks to all the windows (granted, they were reinforced to withstand cracking and were not able to be opened from the inside). She had a private room in the penthouse and employed attentive staff. _

_But when she walked outside today, it would be different. She wouldn't have to be back inside by her 5 o'clock dosage. They wouldn't have to pat her down for contraband. After nine years, she was finally being released._

_She thought she felt grateful. Maybe she was sad to leave , or happy…she didn't know. The medication that the doctor finally settled on keeping her on had Amy resisting any feelings at all. _

_But for years, she had no hallucinations, no voices telling her to destroy anything. She heard nothing. It was comforting. And the doctor guaranteed that with continued upkeep of her medication, Amy would be free to continue living life hallucination-free. _

_"A lifelong battle," he had called her condition. _

_She sighed and pinched her forearm. She smiled at the minuscule pain. She was real. Today was real. Slowly, she turned her head to the plasma television nailed to the wall across the room. _

_"_If you would just listen to me,_" a man on his knees begged the woman standing before him. "_She meant nothing to me, Donna. Nothing._"_

_"_How quickly men can decide the value of women,_" Donna seethed, ripping her hand from the pathetic man's grip. She wore a pearl-colored silk gown and her brunette hair curled around her v-shaped face, her bangs feathered by her eyes. She stared down hatefully through her thick eyelashes. _

_Amy's breath caught in her throat as Farrah Holt shined radiantly in her first and only feature film made in 1979. She watched her mother sneer down at her lover before whirling around to leave, her slim gown flattering her slim physique. _

_"_But I love you, Donna. Don't leave me!_" He rose to his feet and reached out his arm to stop her. He stopped when Farrah turned around, so in character that her dark brown eyes shimmered with unshed tears and an inscrutable pain that caused Amy to gasp. _

_"_Love is a joke_," she declared as the camera panned in on her achingly beautiful face. "_It doesn't last._"_

* * *

The only light in the room was provided by a dim, bedside lamp and the occasional brilliant flashes of white from the lightening in the sky that came in through her window.

"The rain seems to have let up a little," Sheldon murmured, regret lacing his tone.

Amy lied flat on her back and craned her neck, her cheek touching the pillow, to look at Sheldon through her pink-rimmed glasses. He was lying on his side facing her, his head propped up on his arm, the elbow pressing into his pillow. His other hand was closed into a tight fist and resting on his chest. His cheeks were still red from their stifled activities. She sighed her own sound of regret; they were both still fully clothed, even three hours later. When Sheldon said he would go slow, unfortunately, he truly meant it. Every time she tried to lose an article of clothing or pull at his, he would tut at her and remove their hands, giving them time to cool off, much to her disappointment.

"Yeah," she agreed. They both gazed out of her window as the lightening continued to streak across the sky right above the tree line, but the moisture from the atmosphere had finally pulled the reigns, now slowing to a steady drizzle.

"The view from here is amazing."

Amy smiled and nodded her head in agreement. This was her favorite room in the house. Her bed was situated on the north wall and faced towards the south wall, where the horizontal sliver that was entirely made of glass looked over her property. It was like she was a princess in the tower, able to survey the kingdom and wait for the prince to come save her. There was something enchanting about the sadness of her solitude; it made her think of another time and place when she had been kept locked up alone in a tower, waiting to be rescued. She looked back at Sheldon and her eyes widened when she saw that he was already studying her, an almost predatory expression plastered across his features.

"What?" she breathed, her heart rate rising. She may not have much experience with lust, but after rolling around in her bed with Sheldon for hours, lips attached to his and her hands freely roaming all over the softest, and hardest, spots on his body, she was beginning to become accustomed to what this face meant. It excited her.

"I need to get out of this bed before I do something that can't be undone," he said ominously.

"What do you mean?" Amy asked innocently, though, the way his eyes traveled down to meet the curve of her slightly exposed cleavage from beneath her button-up shirt, she somehow knew exactly what he meant.

"Vixen," he accused with a crooked smile. She studied the way his top row of teeth pinched his pouty bottom lip as he spoke. "You know what I mean." With that, he finally folded his body to sit up straight and Amy frowned. "I'd better get going. It's nearly midnight."

"What happens after midnight?" she inquired teasingly. "You turn back into a pumpkin?"

"Maybe." Sheldon looked down and waggled his eyebrows at her. "Or maybe I turn back into an ogre."

Amy thought for a moment before she took a deep breath and let her arms fall limp at her sides. Then she infinitesimally arched her back so that her chest stuck out. "An ogre would have his way with me."

"You're very lucky that I'm a gentleman."

"I wish you weren't."

She watched Sheldon's eyebrows perch up high at her last comment and then she let her eyes flutter closed, anticipating what he would do after her uncharacteristic attempt at flirtation. When nothing happened for a moment, she almost opened her eyes and apologized for her crude comment. The humiliation of her forwardness had caused her blood to rush to the surface of her skin, initiating a raging blush all over her body.

But before she could say a word, she felt the mattress shift beneath her as the weight from Sheldon's side was suddenly on hers. Then something hard as bone wedged up between her thighs, pressing against her center. Her eyes flew open and she saw Sheldon was now hovering over her, his arms pillared by her head. He peered down at her and smiled wickedly. She risked a glance down and saw that it was his knee that he had situated between her legs. He leaned down, pressing his thigh into her center so hard that she had the overwhelming urge to cry out in passion.

She didn't hold back.

"Mmmm, Amy," he groaned after she had cried out his name, lowering his face until his nose was buried in her shirt, nudging the crease between her covered breasts. "Say it again."

"Sheldon," she rasped, her hands desperately latching onto his back. She clawed at his shoulder blades, causing his shirt to lift higher and expose his abdomen. "Please…"

"Hmm?" His tongue darted out and he lapped at her collarbone before blowing cool air on the moist spot. At the same time, he ground his leg deeper into her, and Amy clenched her thighs around his knee, writhing at the contact.

"Please!" she whined again. Sheldon licked his way up to her neck and Amy brought one hand around to gently grab a fistful of his hair. She tried to pull his head back in an attempt to capture his lips with her own, but he resisted, still intent on assaulting the sensitive spot behind her ear with his tongue. He nudged her roughly, yet slowly, one more time with his knee when she tugged at his hair.

"'Please' what, Amy?"

She shut her eyes tight as one of Sheldon's hands made their way to her waist and he roughly closed his fingers on her hip, aggressively pushing her body down onto his knee, meeting the contact with a thrust of his leg. His long fingers dug into her soft waist so hard that she was sure they would leave bruises. And she loved the idea of this.

"Oh, my God," she whispered. She let her hands roam all the way down until they found the skin of Sheldon's hips and she let her fingers dance between his jeans and the waistband of his underwear. She had the instinctual desire to pull down the barriers of clothing that kept him from being exposed to her, but she was afraid of how he would react since earlier, before he initiated this rough petting, he had been the one to pull back. But right now, his face was still buried in her neck and he grunted in pleasure as his leg pushed against her again and his erection rubbed along her thigh.

When she heard the primal noise come from his mouth, Amy felt a peculiar, damp feeling between her legs where Sheldon was making contact, rubbing against her, and she abruptly felt a heat swirl in the pit of her abdomen before it surged higher and higher, reaching her lungs, then spewed out of her throat. She whimpered as a tremor rocked her, splitting her in half, causing small stars to dot her vision.

"God, yes!"

Soon, Amy was grinding herself against his stagnant leg on her own accord as waves of pleasure caused her eyes to roll back and her mouth to fall open. She felt as though she was possessed by another being, a spirit which caused her to mew small sounds of ecstasy and throb violently in very private places. She was grateful that Sheldon remained motionless above her so that the sensation could last longer, patiently waiting for her to ride it out. He clutched her hip tightly as she squirmed beneath him, never letting his strong hold on her waiver.

"Fascinating," he observed when it was over. The hand on Amy's waist released her and traveled up to her neck, where he cupped her throat and pulled her up slightly, meeting her halfway. He kissed her deeply, the cushion of his soft lips breathing life back into her. Finally, he pulled away and peeled himself out of her clutches, rolling over to his side of the bed.

"I'm so sorry," she breathed, her chest heaving up and down as she gulped air like a drowning woman. "I don't know what came over me."

Sheldon wheezed a laugh. "Oh, Amy Farrah Fowler. You know exactly what you are doing."

_No_, she thought quietly while Sheldon intertwined their fingers as their hands lied flat on the mattress. _I really don't. _

Since she was a young girl, with fantasies running amok and all the free time she had to entertain them, Amy certainly was no stranger to her own touch. But the truth was, she had never anticipated this rampant desire of wanting another person to join her pleasure. This was a sensation she had never in her life thought she could experience. She longed to touch Sheldon but he seemed satisfied for the evening to only bring her to release. Amy made a mental vow to return the favor just as soon as he would allow her.

They laid in companionable silence clipped by her labored breaths for awhile longer, every so often sneaking shy glances at each other and giggling before Sheldon finally spoke.

"Walk me to the door?" he asked. She turned her neck again to look at him and nodded, even though she never wanted those blue eyes and cherry lips to leave her sight.

* * *

"Thank you so much for coming to see me," Amy said, turning the knob. She opened the door to reveal the dark world outside and she shivered slightly at the cold wind that blew in, intruding on what had been her and Sheldon's warm fortress for the last few hours. Shakespeare had followed them downstairs and saw the open door as an opportunity to run outside and handle his business.

"You're welcome," he replied with an easy grin after they both watched her dog dash off into the rain before stopping just ten feet away from the porch to relieve himself. "I look forward to telling everyone the news about the map."

"Everyone?"

"Yes," Sheldon said with an enthusiastic nod, his eyes dancing between her and the living room behind her. "The rest of the performers. They all adore you and will be that much more excited to know that you will be more involved in our theater."

Amy was naturally skeptical. "Really? _All _of them?"

It took a moment for Sheldon to follow her train of thought. He pursed his lips and tilted his head. "You must not let Penelope's words by the stage the other night get to you."

Amy studied his face but her ears were listening for the whispering. From the corner of her eyes, she waited for her to pop up, in flames or not. She didn't know what she was expecting, but she wished with every fiber of her being that she could explain to Sheldon that it wasn't just what Penelope had told her by the stage that was bothering her. It was that Penelope had not left her since. She shifted uncomfortably and wrapped her arms around herself, curiosity getting the best of her.

"Sheldon," she started hesitantly. "Have you seen Penelope since that night? Since our confrontation by the stage?"

His demeanor shifted slightly, seemingly thrown by her question. "No," he said quickly. "I have not. I don't see her unless we're performing."

She wasn't sure how to react to this. If Sheldon had not seen Penelope since that night she ripped into Amy by the stage then left them, her brilliant red dress billowing behind her as she disappeared into the woods like a dancing flame, was there any chance that anyone had seen her since? Amy was never a believer in supernatural concepts, but the thought of her Penelope visions gave her another chill. She felt Sheldon's hands lightly grasp her forearms and rub them to generate warmth as they stood in the open doorway. Looking into his eyes, she suddenly had the urge to ask him something that had been rattling around in her mind for a few days.

"Why…" she began, but quickly changed her mind. "Never mind."

"Amy," Sheldon said in a slight warning tone. "Out with it."

"I just…I have a silly question. Feel free to not answer." She took a deep breath and concentrated on his large, warm hands on her skin. "Why do you call her Penny?" She closed her eyes when Sheldon's hands immediately detached from her arms, sure she had upset him. She figured that she was already tumbling down the rabbit hole and continued. "The first night I saw you two arguing on the porch at the Coliseum, she grabbed you to keep you from leaving. You looked at her and called her _Penny_. Why?"

She felt a cool blast of air on her face as Sheldon exhaled. "I've known her a long time. It was a nick name that stuck."

"No one else calls her that," Amy said softly, barely above a whisper. She was still unable to meet his eyes.

"I told you that we were friends, nothing romantic. And I meant that. But we were, at one point, close friends. But things started to change—" he paused and she watched him latch both of his hands to his hips, "She changed. I can't really explain how to you. It worried me. It still worries me to this day, but that is neither here nor there. I hope this doesn't change your opinion of me, Amy."

The desperate inflection in his voice forced her to tilt her chin up and look at him, deep into his eyes, as he finished. "I would never be here with you if my head or heart was with someone else. I don't know what you've done to me, Amy, but I can't get you out of my mind. This has never happened to me before. I've known women, both intimate and not, but never anyone like you. I've only just met you, and yet I felt like I've known you for years. And I want to know you more. _So _much more." With his last words, he took a tentative step forward and when he saw that she wasn't going to resist, he placed one hand at her waist and the other on her face, cupping her cheek tenderly. "You believe me, don't you?"

"I do." She did. She offered him a smile, weak, but genuine.

"Vixen," he said before dipping his head and kissing her, not hesitating to use his tongue to part her lips. They finally broke away and Amy nodded at him, giving him the impression that she was satisfied with his answer. He significantly brightened and gave one last long look at her living room. "I have a brilliant idea." He looked over her shoulder and studied the large space of the empty area again.

"Why do you keep looking over there?" Amy asked, following his line of vision and turning her back to him. She saw him walk away from the door and venture the space, stopping by her leather arm chair.

"What better way to tell everyone about your co-owning the theater than a big party?" Sheldon's arms spread wide as he faced Amy again. "Here, at River Road Manor."

"A party?" Amy squeaked, looking at every corner of her house. "Here?"

"Sure," Sheldon said excitedly. "We can help you clean it up and after a performance at the end of the week we can all come here instead of the Coliseum. Amy, everyone will love it. The structure of this house is magnificent." He spoke loudly, the echo of his voice ringing in the rafters to accentuate his point.

"I don't have any furniture, any food, any…_any_thing," she protested, her head shaking from side to side.

"Let me worry about that." He shuffled to meet her at the door then pulled gently on her hand until she followed him to the center of the living room. "I'll foot the bill for everything. I want everyone to see this place. It's beautiful." When Amy didn't say anything at first, he turned down his enthusiasm a decibel. "I'm sorry I'm being so intrusive. We don't have to…"

"Shh," Amy commanded gently, listening to the silence of her four walls. She detached herself from Sheldon's arms and began to wander around the space. Closing her eyes, she tried to imagine hosting a get-together here as extravagant as Sheldon's parties were. She was certainly as capable of 'footing the bill' as Sheldon was, so she would not let him pay for anything. With a small smile, she realized it could be fun. It would be a night she wouldn't have to endure the deafening silence on her own.

Robbie Fowler, a party thrower from way back, would certainly approve.

And if Penelope were to join them, it would also give Amy the opportunity to see her again, and perhaps ask her some questions.

She twirled around to meet Sheldon's face, smiling with decision. "Okay," she said, nodding happily as his tense face broke into a smile as well. "It'll be fun," she said forcefully, more to herself than him.

"It will," he agreed, taking her hands in his. "You'll see. I'll let the others know." With a sigh, he spoke in a low voice. "I should really get going."

"Alright," Amy relented. They walked to the door once again just as Shakespeare padded up the porch steps, shaking the rain water from his fur violently. "Shakes!" Amy half-chastised, half-laughed when his residue splattered her and Sheldon.

"Good boy," Sheldon murmured as he bent at the knee to get eye level with Amy's goofy dog, patting his head. "Take care of your mother. I want her in one piece when I return tomorrow. Got it, Shakes?"

Shakespeare tilted his head to the left and stared blankly at Sheldon, his tongue drooping lazily out of the right side of his muzzle.

"I think that's a 'yes'," Sheldon mused with a grin. He straightened his frame and looked down at Amy. "Tomorrow? We can start cleaning up this place. I'll bring reinforcements."

"Okay," Amy said with a nod. "Can't wait."

"Me neither." He smoothed a strand of hair behind Amy's ear before letting his arm fall to his side. He hovered at her threshold and looked torn between staying and leaving. "See you then." He finally walked to the porch and Amy watched him as he carefully headed down the steps and jogged to his car. She stood at the door for awhile after his headlights disappeared around the corner and he was out of sight.

* * *

_Amy didn't hear the silent steps of Robbie Fowler as he joined her in the waiting area. She was studying the TV screen so intently that all other sounds failed to resonate. _

_It was the first time she had ever heard her mother's voice. _

_"She was a looker, huh?" Robbie asked as he settled into the seat next to his daughter. _

_"I'm not that beautiful," Amy said softly. She felt her father beside her, but was too entranced by her mother's screen presence to acknowledge him with a greeting. _

_"No," Robbie said. "You're much, much more beautiful than that." _

_At this, Amy finally broke eye contact with the television and turned in her chair to face her handsome father. His green eyes were wide and expressive, just like hers. She had his nose, but she knew that she had Farrah's very prominent chin. She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and smiled warmly at him. _

_"Hi, Pop." _

_"Hi there, little bear." _

_They were in no hurry to get up, and instead sat and watched as Farrah gallivanted around town, the proverbial woman scorned as she sought revenge on her unfaithful lover. Every once in awhile, Robbie would interject with facts about the scene, the location of shooting, or how he knew the director. Amy felt tears stain trails down her cheeks before she had finally had enough. _

_"How come you've never let me see this before?" _

_He had never kept this film in the house and back when she was a child, Amy didn't know how to ask about her mother without upsetting him. There was no way for her to access her Farrah's work. She waited as Robbie stared thoughtfully back at her, taking his time to answer. _

_"We had other things going on," he finally said. "More important things than to worry about watching your mother on film. You are the most important thing in my life, Amy. I know I don't talk about your mother, but that's because everything good about her is sitting right in front of me. She made one movie worth its salt and was an extra on tons of television shows before her addiction consumed her. _

"_She could have gone far. But her greatest masterpiece, and mine, started and ended with you. That's all that matters." _

_Amy sniffed and swallowed back her first pang of emotion that she had felt in so long. No mood-stabilizing medication could stifle the giant hole in her stomach that she had never known was there until she heard Farrah Holt's voice. "I'm ready to go home, Pop." _

_"Me, too," he said. When he smiled at that moment, Amy truly saw him for the first time. He looked older somehow than the last time he had visited, just a week ago. The tufts of silver hair above his ears made him looked weathered and his eyes were sagging on the sides. As they rose to their feet, Amy watched as her usually light-stepping, relaxed and poised father grabbed her suitcase with a tired arm. His shoulders hunched forward as though he was terribly anxious. What had he suffered in the last seven days to make him look so unlike himself?_

_"Pop," she started as they walked towards the exit. Her paperwork had already been taken care of and they were free to go. "What's wrong? You don't look the same." _

_"Oh, don't you worry about your old man," he shooed her concern. "I'm just happy that you're finally coming back home with me." As they walked outside to the waiting town car idling at the curb, he spoke again. "How are you feeling?"_

_"Good," she said, not sure how else to answer him. She waited for him to ask her another question as the driver hopped out of the car, greeted her with a smile, and took the suitcase from Robbie. "I'm good, Pop." _

_"Heard from any of your old friends, lately?" he asked with a light tone and pointedly glanced at her head. _

_"No." Amy couldn't help feel a small ounce of guilt. She couldn't blame her father for asking such a seemingly ridiculous question—her hallucinations and fire-starting had been the reason she was in admitted in the first place. The remorse of causing years of anguish and the pain she had caused him threatened to overcome her. She turned to look over her shoulder at the facility, suddenly wondering if leaving was such a good idea. She had only been discharged for an hour and feelings were flying at her from every corner of the world. She was unsure of how to process them. _

_"Are you…are you sure?" He caught her eyes before quickly turning away, but Amy had seen enough in that quick flicker. _

_Robbie Fowler was afraid of his daughter._

* * *

"Come, boy," Amy commanded Shakespeare inside and they stared at each other for awhile in the silence. She suddenly missed Sheldon so much that her body physically ached. After another moment of sadness, she shook her head, ridding herself of the sensation of tears. Without thinking, her legs started to move and she found herself ascending the stairs, taking them two at a time. She reached her bathroom seconds later and stared at herself in the mirror.

Sheldon had made her feel things before in a short span of a few hours that she had never felt in her almost 30 years of being alive. Although her body felt animated and every nerve ending was shouting, begging for more, she was petrified. What if she relapsed because she wasn't taking her medication and she was with Sheldon when it happened? Amy couldn't bear to see him walk away from her after discovering her dark secret. She couldn't bear to see fear in his eyes as she had once seen in her father's. After a few seconds of deliberation, she had decided she had been adventurous enough. She opened the vanity mirror above the sink and reached for her medication, opened both bottles, and placed two pills on her tongue. She turned on the faucet and stuck her mouth under the stream, lapping a few ounces of water to wash down the medication.

She straightened out and looked at herself again in the mirror. She refused to be her own worst enemy any more.

"Haven't you been listening to me?" Penelope asked.

Amy gripped the sides of the sink and screwed her eyelids as tight as they could close. The water continued to run from the spout, bubbling as it seeped down the drain.

"It doesn't last, Amy."

"You won't last," Amy promised, her voice barely above a whisper. "You won't ruin this for me. I don't know who you are or what you want, but you're not Penelope. She is a real person. You aren't. It's impossible."

"We'll see."

Shakespeare whined and Amy only opened her eyes again when she felt his heavy tail thumping against her calve. She looked down at him and smiled reassuringly before she dared a glance at her surroundings. She was alone. Sighing, she turned off the faucet and switched off the light before she retreated to her bedroom, Shakespeare following closely behind.

The duvet on the mattress was still rumpled and Amy laid down on her stomach, inhaling Sheldon's scent, wrapping herself in it. She feared that the desire she had for him would wane overnight as the medication took its effect and entered her bloodstream, but it was a chance she had to take. Amy wanted to be well for Sheldon. She deserved a chance to be happy and live without fear.

She reached her arms out until her hand disappeared beneath the pillows and met with something crinkly. She grabbed it and pulled it to her and realized it was the map.

"Where did you come from?" she asked the object, twisting it in her hands. She looked over her shoulder at her dog who sat patiently on the ground, looking up at her expectantly. Rubbing her finger over her initials scribbled on the parchment, she went over Sheldon's explanation in her head again. He had thought he heard Shakespeare's tags jingling here in her room. It was entirely probable that perhaps he heard jingling from a room nearby. But he was drawn straight to her room.

If this map had been left for her here in this house, where could it have come from? She stood up from her bed and let her eyes sweep the room until they came to rest on her closet, tucked in the far east corner of the bedroom. She slowly walked towards it and as she got closer, she saw that the door was slightly ajar, not enough for a body to slip in, but enough so that she could see the daunting black of the space inside.

"Shakes, come," Amy called out and was joined a split second later by her faithful furry companion. He stood at rapt attention, lowering his head as she reached for the closet. She wasn't sure what she was so afraid of, of what she may find lurking inside, but her heart was pounding so hard she could taste the vibrations on her tongue. Finally, she drew in a sharp breath and grabbed the frame of the door and ripped it open.

The light from the bedroom filled the closet space and revealed to Amy absolutely nothing. She hadn't even gotten around to unpack all of her clothes and hang them inside, so the jackets and a few pairs of jeans hanging from the bar did little to hamper her view. She was about to close the door when she saw Shakespeare walk inside and sniff at a large box in the center of the closet.

"What the hell?" she whispered as a box she had not seen before came into view. It was open, the lid leaning against it. The box was filled with old photographs and other papers but she had to drag it out of the closet in order to see it in the proper light. Shakespeare was sniffing vigorously around the lid of the box and she picked it up, squinting to read the printed logo on the face of it.

"Sanford, Michaels and Berry," Amy read aloud before emitting a small gasp.

_Rajesh's law firm._

* * *

**A/N pt 2: I know, I threw a lot of crazy stuff at you! Keep an eye out for small hints I've dropped in this chapter. Mysteries will soon be brought to light…next chapter in the works ;]**


	10. What Happens In Darkness

**A/N: **

**1. Sorry for the delay, but midterms have now come to a close. I survived. YEY. This chapter is long because now we're going to start getting into the thick of what's going on (and I couldn't find a suitable place to cut it off, lol). Hope you all don't mind a long read. :] And the next chapter is nearly halfway done, so it won't be long until I have another update for you. **

**2. Alright, folks. We have officially graduated to an 'M' rating, but it's mostly just as a precaution. Don't worry (PEARL), the heat will be turned up soon enough. If you do not like reading sexual content, just skip the part in this chapter. Sorry in advance, lol. **

**3. Your amazing feedback is so encouraging. All of the kind words that you have taken the time to leave me truly fuels my fire. Thanks, guys. Enjoy chapter 10. ;]**

* * *

"It's not working," she insisted in a frustrated tone. "She's taken her medication. It won't work now that she's on her medication again."

"Just a minor speed bump," he countered. "It'll work regardless."

"How do you know that?" she asked. "I was the one who was there when she took it. I saw it all."

A feeling akin to disdain rose up from a familiar place inside of him as he stared her down. "You're impatient. You are wasteful with this opportunity I'm giving you with your theatrics and spooky haunted house crap. That's why it hasn't worked yet."

"I don't think that's it at all," she said testily. "You've had plenty of chances to finish this and you haven't. I think you've lost your touch."

He waited for a moment, biting his lip so hard he drew blood. Better his than hers.

"It's working," he growled through clenched teeth. "She's just a little more resistant than we had anticipated."

"How can that be possible? She's been psychotic since she was a child!"

He couldn't concentrate when she berated him so. When she summoned him out of bed in the middle of the night just to make him listen to her rage on about her doubts, it was harder for him to stay focused and harness his abilities. He was the coordinator. He was in control. _Always_.

A strangled sound from behind the closed bedroom door next to them startled them both, causing their bickering to cease for a moment until the disturbance quieted down.

After a few moments of silence, he turned back around to face her. "I can't do this right now," he said quickly. "We need to pull back a little. The rain has given us a big break, being that the performances were cancelled, but if we push too hard on this, she might begin to suspect—"

"You told me it would work. We have all our players under our fingers but we're no closer. You led me to believe that you could handle this. I should pull the plug right here, right now."

"You're missing the point," he nearly shouted, then looked over his shoulder again at the closed door. He slowly turned back to her and narrowed his eyes. "You're missing the point," he repeated in a whisper. "These matters are delicate. This isn't a game with pawns that you can move in any direction you please. It will take time. It has taken time. She's here in Evergreen Falls now, isn't she?" He waited, searching her with wide eyes until he saw her shoulders slump in acceptance. He took the opportunity to continue. "And that took years, but she's here. And she's right where we want her."

She stayed quiet for a moment, her eyes fierce, displeased. "I didn't think it would be this difficult."

"You never think," he said harshly. "You leave me to do that for you." He looked down and placed his hands on his hips, drawing in a deep, steadying breath before he continued. "Just trust me, okay? We'll both get what we want, soon enough."

She began to drift off, her eyes staring over his shoulder at something that wasn't really there. Just as he was about to ask her what she was thinking, she huffed angrily and met his eyes again.

"That weak, sniveling mess is the daughter of Farrah Holt and Robbie Fowler. What a waste." Her voice was deep, lower than normal, primal. It caused a shiver to crawl up his spine. He hated being afraid of her. Shouldn't it be the other way around? He was the one in control. Wasn't he?

He watched her mutely as she spun on her heels and opened the door to the room behind them. When the person trapped inside saw her enter, they began to whimper in fear.

He watched her disappear into the room, shutting the door behind her, fear not far off from what he had begun to feel, as well.

* * *

Amy woke up.

Her eyes fluttered in protest with the brightness pouring in from the window, but this time, it wasn't a dream of a forest on fire. The sun had actually come out. She should have felt elated, anticipated the sensations of the warmth of the rays on her skin, excited to take Shakes for a well-deserved walk. Instead, she pulled the sheets over her face and rolled over.

She clenched her teeth together and sunk deeper into her pillow. Her nose scrunched up at the fragrance—it was foreign, yet familiar.

"Sheldon," she breathed as she registered the scent. She closed her eyes as it invaded her nostrils once again. She desperately sought after the yearning that she had felt for him just ten hours earlier and was relieved to feel some of it was still there, barely, hollow, in traces. But the majority of her felt nothing. Static.

So, her medicine had worked. She blinked a few times as the panic set in; how would she react when she saw Sheldon? Would she still want him, reciprocate his desire? She shut her eyes tight and the first image she saw on the back of her lids was the visual of Sheldon hovering above her, grinning down before dipping into her neck with his lips. She moaned slightly as the memory of them in bed last night washed over her.

When she snapped out of her reverie, she sighed in relief; the tether she felt to Sheldon, an inexplicable tie that she had once not been sure what to make of, was still there. This calmed her.

It took her a few more minutes to compose herself and fully wake up. She rolled over again and faced her open closet, where the box she had found the night before sat in the center on the floor. Amy had been so thrown off by the title of Rajesh's law firm on the box that she refused to go through all of the paperwork and old photographs inside of it that she had seen from the corner of her eyes. Instead, she threw the map to the theater in it and left it there. She crawled into bed, pulling Shakespeare close. Suddenly so tired on account of one of her meds, she had fallen under quickly.

But now that the sun was knocking on her window and her body was alert, Amy swung her legs around and snatched her glasses off of her nightstand, her eyes finally adjusting. The bandage on her hand needed to be changed as it hung loosely from her wrist. Still dressed in jeans and her long-sleeved stripe shirt from the night before, she rose from the bed then walked quickly to the closet. She bent down to retrieve the box, lifting it carefully, and placed it on the center of her bed. Before she could look inside, she heard a very impatient bark from her dog downstairs.

Moments later she made her way down the steps, balancing the box in her arms, to let Shakespeare out to relieve himself. Then she hauled the box to the glass room that she had shown Sheldon last night. There, in the middle of the floor, Amy sat down Indian style and reached in, grabbing the first paper she saw: the map. She studied it carefully as thoughts flew at warp speed from one side of her brain to the next.

Did Sheldon open her closet and see this box? Is this where he got the map from? Or was it, like he insisted, already on her bed when he went inside in search of Shakespeare? She shivered involuntarily, desperately hoping the latter was true. Although it was truly frightening to think someone, _or something_, else had taken this map and placed it on her bed without her knowing, somehow, the thought of Sheldon planting this there and knowing more than he let on frightened her more.

Stifling the thoughts for now, she placed the map on the floor by her knee. Her back was to the open door and she kept one ear perked to listen for Shakespeare. The room was well lit on account of the sun pouring in through the glass wall and Amy smiled slightly, enjoying the view. Then, after exhaling slowly, she reached in and grabbed a fistful of photographs. She studied the first polaroid and the woman in it.

Amy had never met her grandparents on account of them dying before her father ever mended his relationship with them, but he did show her a picture of them when she was younger and because of this, Amy knew whom she was holding in her hand. She studied the contours of the young woman's skin, smooth and pale; even in the black and white tones of the portrait, she could tell. The woman had wavy, unruly hair, just like Robbie. Her smile was nonchalant, a smirk. Amy smiled, noticing the thin curve of her grandmother's lips were just likes hers.

Sighing, she put the photo down and reached in for more. She let out a tiny laugh as she viewed photo after photo of her father as a child; one of him wearing cowboy boots too big for his toddling legs, another one of him sporting a milk mustache and Superman print underwear, and another riding his bicycle in sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt outside in the front yard of this very house. Amy had never found it odd that her father failed to show her baby pictures of him. Their mansion back in New York was filled of portraits and stills of him and even more pictures of Amy from infancy to her awkward teenage years. There seemed to be enough pictures to suffice for the life that he counted as his own. Robbie hated speaking of the past before he escaped Evergreen Falls. So it was a pleasant surprise to see the goofy faces and essential human-like behavior that were in these old family photographs.

Among the photographs were other childhood mementoes: Robbie's old report cards, handmade cards and letters to Santa Claus made of construction paper, and crayon-covered notebook paper with his name scrawled along the bottom in loopy handwriting; probably her grandmother's penmanship. Amy lifted the drawings and placed them close to her nose. She could still smell the musky scent of Crayola and she blinked away a few tears, suddenly missing her Pop so very much. Amy was suddenly very grateful that Sheldon wasn't around to go through this box with her, as it all was very private.

Soon, the pictures and tattered paper vestiges were running thin and she was reaching to the bottom of the box. One last photo caught her attention and she picked it up, scanning the different faces of the group in search her father's.

There were seven young people, not much younger than Amy, standing against an RV parked in front of a camp fire. A couple of them donned long capes and silly feathered hats, as if they were outfitted in a very low-budget Elizabethan play. She saw two men off to the side in regular clothes that could be considered in-style in the 1980's. The taller man's arm was wrapped around the shorter man's shoulders in a friendly, brotherly half-hug. The shorter man was a very young Robbie Fowler.

The taller man had a round, handsome face hosted by pastel skin beneath raven-colored hair so shockingly familiar that Amy dropped the photo in her lap and brought both hands to her face to smother the gasp that flew out of her lips. She jumped when she heard scratching on her front door accompanied by Shakespeare's whimpering. Scrambling to her feet with the photo still clutched in her injured hand, she walked quickly to the front door and let her dog in, instantly relaxing with her companion by her side. He shook his body and stared up at her expectantly.

"You hungry, Shakes?" she asked, receiving an erratic tail-waiving in response. He padded behind her, following her to the kitchen where with her free hand, she scooped up a sufficient amount of kibble from his enormous bag of food and placed it in his bowl. He was already chewing before she emptied the scoop. She rubbed his furry back appreciatively before she went back to studying the picture.

The man with his arm around Robbie looked startling familiar at first glance, but as she looked closer, she was relieved to see some slight differences. He was lofty and slightly heavier, and his eyes were darker, but the man could pass for a very close relative of the one and only Sheldon Cooper. She quickly sifted through her memory and came to a halt at the recollection of the night in Sheldon's bed where he shared details of his father with her.

"…_She said she had met my father only in passing, which was always a hard story for me to hear. They met because his acting company, a very poor group of misfits that practically performed for peanuts and toured the country in an RV, had passed through Houston one month in the summer…"_

Amy paused and closed her eyes, wrinkling the photo in her hands. She steadied herself by leaning against the kitchen counter and listening to the monotonous crunching of Shakespeare eating his food. Feeling slightly nauseated, she stared down at the picture in her hands again before she made a break from the kitchen, startling Shakespeare with her sudden retreat, and ran up the stairs, taking two steps at a time. She needed to retrieve her cell phone to make a very important call.

* * *

"Valencia," Amy greeted when her lawyer picked up on the second ring.

"Amy!" the light, breezy voice of her lawyer and only family friend on the other end answered. "What a nice surprise. I was actually going to give you a ring here in a few days. Wanted to check up on you."

"I'm doing great."

"Still taking your meds?"

"Wow," Amy muttered. "You don't waste any time."

"That's why they pay me the big bucks, Ames. Now, are you staying current on your meds?"

"Yes," Amy fibbed. Technically, she was back on track. "I have an important question to ask you, Val."

"Have at it."

"When my father died, did he have this house, River Road Manor, in the will?"

"Yes," Valencia answered quickly. "You saw the paperwork. The place is yours."

"Right, but…Val, when did Pop add this property to his will?"

"Oh, I don't know the exact date off hand," the woman mumbled while Amy heard paper shuffling in the background. "I can check it out for you. Why?"

"If you're busy, don't worry about it—"

"No," she said dismissively. "I've got the computer up and running in front of me. A couple of key strokes and I can give you the info." Appropriately, Amy heard the popping of the keyboard. "So, how is that place, huh? The square footage on the deed was killer. I'm surprised Robbie left you in charge of all of that." The key popping stopped and Amy smiled crookedly as Valencia tried to backtrack. "No offense, toots, you know I don't mean it like that. It's just a lot for a single girl to handle."

"No, you were right the first time," Amy laughed and bit her lip. "I'm a little in over my head, but…I'm managing." The keys kept popping and Amy suddenly felt the dull ache of missing her lawyer. It had always been a peculiar deal, a young girl putting trust and friendship in the people who were only hired to protect her assets. Although Amy was never privy to such things, in the back of her mind, she had always thought that Robbie kept Valencia around not only for legal matters but for personal as well. Not that she had minded—Val had always been like a family member to her since she was eight years-old.

"Okay, got it pulled up," she interrupted Amy's thoughts and cleared her throat. "Your grandparents, one Robert Fowler, Senior and one Clementine Seagel-Fowler, left the deed to your father when they passed in 1991 and 1994 respectively. But your father did not leave the deed to you until…hmm."

"What?"

"It says here that the day your father updated his last will and testament, the only adjustment he made, was on October 19, 2012."

"Really?" Amy asked, a cold, murky feeling swelling over her feet like an incoming tide.

"Yeah. That's…that's the day you got out of the institution, isn't it?"

"Yes." Amy cleared her throat. "Yes, it is." She took a deep breath and asked the question that was walking the plank in her mind. "Val, do you have the name of my grandparents' legal representation?"

"I do," Valencia said. A few more pops and one click later, she had the answer. "Sandford, Michaels and Berry, limited liability company."

* * *

She was pacing in the front living room, Shakespeare trailing her and whining impatiently as though he wished she could make up her mind and stay still. She glanced down at him through her glasses and they met eyes for a few seconds before she heard what sounded like a car door slam outside.

Sheldon had not designated a time that he would be there, but he told Amy that he would be back tomorrow, and she trusted him to keep his word. With a soft smile, she hurried to the door and waited for him to knock before opening it. She felt a wave of fluttering begin in her stomach and spread throughout her bones which was a good sign; the medication had yet to stifle the butterflies. But a part of her figured that the butterflies were not just a sign of infatuation, but of anxiety. Her conversation with Valencia on the phone a few hours ago weighed heavily on her mind, as well as the picture she had found of her father and the group of people he was surrounded by, namely the man that resembled Sheldon so much it gave her a chill. She couldn't wait to share this information with him, and perhaps together they could figure out where her map had appeared from.

The knock came.

She smoothed her blow-dried hair behind her ears, freshly showered and hopefully presentable in a royal blue cardigan over a white tank top that wasn't shy in the cleavage showing department, and dark denim jeans. Then with a deep breath, she turned the knob and smiled widely at her company.

Her smile only lasted for a split second before she had to lower her eyes to meet her company's gaze, who was much shorter than who she had been expecting. "Rajesh?" she asked in confusion.

"Hello, Amy," he greeted her with his own wide smile. "Let me guess—not who you were expecting?"

"No." Amy fought to keep the apprehension out of her voice and took a step back. Her mind quickly visualized the box from his law firm that held all of the private matters of her father's childhood inside. "But still a pleasant surprise. What are you doing here?"

"Well, Sheldon called Howard and Bernadette and told them about the idea of having this weekend performance's after party here at your place. And what you may not know about me is that I'm sort of a party planner myself. I mean, if it weren't for me, Sheldon would sooner serve his guests bottled water and Ritz crackers than the delicious wine and course spread I put out for everyone." He shook his head and huffed, earning a curious glance from Amy. "Anyway, so I took it upon myself to come here and help spruce up your place."

"Oh." Amy furrowed her eyebrows and risked a glance over Rajesh's shoulder. He followed her line of sight and turned to look over his shoulder too before turning back around to face Amy. She snapped out of it when he chuckled. "Sorry, I'm so rude. Please, come in." She bit her tongue, hoping she wasn't making a big mistake.

_Where was Sheldon? _she thought to herself._ Did he know that Rajesh was coming by?_

"Thank you," he said graciously, walking in slowly. "Oh, hey, pooch!" He bent at the knee as Amy closed the door behind him and watched Shakespeare run over to his long lost friend. "Who's a good boy?"

As she watched him speak in almost babyish tones to her dog, Amy couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed for being so afraid. There could always be a reasonable explanation for the box in her room. Her grandparents died so long ago, Rajesh wasn't even in the country at the time. The law firm could have easily existed before he started working there. What would he have to do with any of this?

Shakespeare barked happily in conversation with his old friend and interrupted Amy's thoughts.

"You remember my dog, Shakespeare," she told him. "Shakespeare, you remember Rajesh."

"Amy, please," Rajesh said as he rose back up from his bent position. He turned and looked down at her with a teasing smile. "I've told you. Call me Raj." She noticed him bring his pouty lips together and she averted her gaze, his dark eyes staring at her too intensely than what was comfortable.

"Right," she assented with an uneasy grin. "Raj. So, did Sheldon tell you where I live?"

"Oh, no," he said with a shake of his head. "Howard told me you lived at River Road Manor, since I'm familiar with the area, I just drove over. I hope you don't mind me stopping by unannounced."

"No, that's fine." Amy walked around Raj, giving herself a wide girth as she walked ahead of her guest. "It's always nice to see you, Raj. I'm sorry I don't entertain people so I have practically nothing in my fridge. Would you like a glass of water or some wine?" She made herself stop talking, afraid that she was rambling.

Raj took a step closer to her, his hands in his pockets. He was dressed sharply again, in a black V-neck sweater with the Polo logo on the breast and his slacks were gray. "Sure," he said finally after a long moment of silence. "Wine would be great." His eyes fluttered down her figure unabashedly before he suddenly looked away, as if embarrassed by his own rude blunder. His skin a pleasant caramel color, but Amy was sure she could see a blush.

"Okay, follow me," she said then hesitantly turned her back to lead him into the kitchen. Amy could not readily explain the intense vibes of trepidation that she was feeling being in such close proximity with Raj right now, but she figured it had something to do with the way he was watching her. When they got to the kitchen, she turned to look at him again. He had a handsome, albeit disturbing grin plastered on his face, and it made her feel slightly dirty as she reached for a new bottle from atop her refrigerator and a cork screw in the drawer beneath her sink. What happened to the sweet, shy Rajesh she had met that first night at the Coliseum? Then again over coffee at the café in town? This Raj was causing her to feel antsy.

"So," she said after a minute of silence, working the screw into the cork of the bottle. "What do you have planned for my home?"

"Well," he began, his accent thick. "I was thinking you could give me a tour, first. So I can get a better feel of what I want to do with this place."

"Oh," Amy said softly as she poured the wine into two glasses. "Well, I don't want an extreme home makeover or anything. Sheldon says my living area is big enough to convert as a ballroom for the night."

"Excuse me for being so bold, Amy," Rajesh interrupted suddenly, taking a few steps closer to her. If he reached his arm out, he could touch her. She fought the urge to recoil and took comfort in seeing that his arms were still by his sides. He continued, lowering his voice a register. "But I have to say, you are beautiful."

Amy's lips pursed together for a moment as realization tumbled onto her head and cascaded down her shoulders. It was no wonder Raj was making her uncomfortable with his long gazes and husky voice; he was showing interest in her. Maybe under normal circumstances, she would feel flattered at the attention. But it only made her uneasy. Maybe it was the medication dulling her senses, or maybe it was because she felt as though encouraging him would be a slight to Sheldon. Either way, Amy wasn't sure what to say now.

"I was taken with you from the first moment I saw you, if I may say so." He licked his lips and stared at her hopefully. "As you know, talking to women is new for me, so I'm sorry if I'm going about this in the wrong way, but…" She shook her head, cutting him off. Then she leveled her eyes so that they were looking only at his chest.

"I…" she started, but was abruptly, and gratefully, interrupted by Shakespeare's sudden riotous barking as he ran out of the kitchen and towards the front door. They both jumped and Raj gave an uneasy laugh, seemingly grateful for the break in tension.

"Hello?" came a voice from the foyer. They heard her door close.

Raj turned and Amy followed his gaze to the entrance of the kitchen where Sheldon appeared with Howard and Bernadette in tow.

"Sheldon!" Amy called, walking past Raj towards the tall man with imploring blue eyes. She stopped in front of him, forcing herself not to rise up on her tip-toes and kiss him, even though she really wanted to. It was unknown how forward she could be now that they were in the company of his friends. "You're here."

"Hello, Amy," he said sweetly, peering down at her with affection. His hands were full; he had a box wedged under his armpit and the other hand held a paper sack close to his body. After he smiled at her, he looked up to see Raj standing alone by the refrigerator. Amy saw it then; the tiniest shift of Sheldon's smile as it turned downward, almost into a scowl. But just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone. "Hi, Raj. What are you doing here?"

"Hello," Raj said and waved casually. "Howard told me about the party. I wanted to come see Amy's digs and help out with the planning."

It was quiet for a moment as Sheldon nodded thoughtfully, his eyes never leaving Raj's. The intensity once again became too much for Amy and she felt her breath quicken. She scrambled for a distraction to cut the tension.

"Howard, Bernadette!" she nearly shouted, moving around Sheldon to greet the two other guests who were watching the two men's stare-off in awe. "Come into the kitchen, guys. Put that stuff here on the counter." She was curious to see that the small couple was also holding paper sacks. "Where did you guys go?"

"We went into town to buy you some groceries," Bernadette informed her in a high, tinkling voice. "Sheldon told us you were running on empty." With that, she began to unload the paper sacks while Howard grinned at Amy and shrugged.

"Hey," Amy said softly, looking up at Sheldon. "I can do my own shopping. This wasn't necessary." She poked his arm with her finger. "Sheldon." She tried to sound stern.

"Yes, Amy, you are perfectly capable of shopping on your own," he finally said. He broke his stare with Raj and looked down at her with a playful gleam in his eye. "But what you lack is the motivation. You said so yourself: you're the most pathetic bachelor in the world." He winked at her as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Don't worry," he added. "It's not much. Just enough for tonight. I'm going to make dinner."

Amy's jaw dropped and she stepped out of the way so that Sheldon could place the items in his arms on the counter. "Really? Here?"

"Yes," he said with a nod and turned around to face her, his arms now free. He opened his mouth to say something else but then closed it again and took two steps towards her. In a second, he had both arms wrapped around her waist and he leaned down to gently brush his lips against hers. Amy forgot about her guests and about Raj's unexpected compliment, and even forgot how to breathe as for a few blissful seconds, she felt the eager pressure of Sheldon's lips on hers. She hadn't had the time to wet her lips before he kissed her, so as he withdrew, she felt his moist mouth stay stuck to hers, lightly tugging on her bottom lip as he pulled away completely. She blinked up at him, still enveloped in his arms.

"I missed you," he said simply, as if explaining his behavior.

She was still speechless, her arms limply hanging by her sides, when she heard Howard clear his throat.

"Should we, uh, leave?" he quipped. Bernadette giggled.

Amy came to her senses and blinked a few times, surrounded by Sheldon's arms, warmth, and clean scent. She finally found the strength to pull her eyes away from his and looked over her shoulder at her company. His arms loosened their grip and she blushed furiously, taking a step away from him and licked her lips, his taste lingering there still.

"Let me show you all around," she offered. She fought the trembling in her stomach and the knocking of her knees as Sheldon smiled at her devilishly, enjoying the whole spectacle. She perched an eyebrow at him before returning her gaze to the couple.

"Sounds good," Howard said.

"Great, follow me." She paused and looked around until she met Raj's crestfallen expression. It suddenly occurred to her that he was probably the last to know of her and Sheldon's situation, as Howard and Bernadette didn't look surprised at all, only amused.

She snuck a firm glance at her partner in crime, wondering if Sheldon had only been so bold to take her in front of Raj to be spiteful. It was obvious he was none too pleased to see him here. She shook the thought and refocused on the quiet man in the corner by the refrigerator, holding a full glass of wine.

"Raj," she said softly. "Come with us." She smiled when he nodded politely and followed them.

"I've already seen the whole place," Sheldon called after them loudly as they started to leave the kitchen. "Even _upstairs_." Amy paused and pivoted on her heel, staring at Sheldon with wide eyes, which only amused him further. His blue orbs danced evilly. "You all go on without me, I'll start preparing the food." He winked at Amy then turned towards the bags to finish unpacking his purchases, humming quietly to himself.

* * *

"Amy, this place is amazing," Bernadette said as they roamed the halls. "The structure, so beautiful. Very Victorian."

"Thank you," Amy repeated for what seemed like the tenth time. "It belonged to my grandparents." She left out the part about it belonging to her father subsequently, thus the reason for her inheriting it. No one that she had met in Evergreen Falls had yet to recognize her as Robbie Fowler's daughter, or if they had, they were too polite to mention it. This had helped her to relax that first night at the Coliseum and even right now. It was nice to finally be the center of attention but for her house, not her highly publicized psychotic episodes of her youth.

She let Howard and Bernadette go on a little ahead of her as they walked around the living area that would soon be converted into a ball room, and hung back to allow Raj to catch up. He finally walked next to Amy and stood by her side. The two silently watched Howard spontaneously grab ahold of his wife and swing her around like a pair of ballroom dancers, humming an unfamiliar tune in her ear. Amy tilted her head to the side, smiling at the sight. Then she remembered the very quiet man next to her.

"Raj," she said softly. "I didn't get to thank you for your compliment."

"That's okay," he mumbled friendlily. "I understand. I think."

Amy nodded quietly, though he didn't ask her anything. They looked on again as the married couple continued to spin around to their own silent music. She caught Howard's eye as he looked over at them curiously.

"So, you and Sheldon, huh?"

She dropped eye contact with Howard and looked to the left to face Raj. "I think so, yeah."

"You sound so unsure," he observed, eyeing her with a perplexed expression.

"It's new," Amy admitted, then suddenly felt very foolish. "I'm sorry, I don't feel comfortable speaking about this."

"It's alright," he laughed lightly. He drained the rest of his wine glass and pursed his lips. "Don't apologize so much. I knew I was coming on too strong earlier, and for that, _I _apologize." He blinked slowly, and Amy wondered if she had poured that glass of wine too full. "I had better get going. Your house is lovely, and I have a good idea of how I want to decorate everything."

"You're not going to stay for dinner?" Amy waited for an answer, but saw that Raj's tired features had suddenly steeled as he glanced straight ahead towards the other entrance of the living room, the one closest to the kitchen. She followed his gaze and realized he was staring at Sheldon, who had just joined them.

"No," he answered her suddenly, breaking his stare and looking straight at her. "I'm not hungry. But thank you."

"Okay," she said quietly. "Well, stop by anytime, Raj. Thank you for coming. I'm sure you're going to make this weekend a lovely event." She reached out to take his empty wine glass and froze when his fingers brushed against hers in the exchange. To ease the reappearing tension, she made a small joke. "And send me the bill. Try to keep it under a cool million bucks, okay?" She was relieved when he awarded her with a tiny smile, his teeth blindingly white.

"Deal." And with a wink, he stuffed his hands into his pockets and walked away, cutting across the floor and easing past the still dancing couple. Without another word, he shuffled past Sheldon, neither meeting each other's eyes, and a few seconds later, they heard the front door shut. Shakespeare came running into the living room and sought out Amy, his eyes widening in sadness that his only friend had left him again.

Amy watched her dog and was about to call him to come to her side when the four-legged creature's mood suddenly shifted and he whirled around, zoning in on Howard and Bernadette before emitting a roll of vicious snarls in their direction.

"Shakes!" she called severely then clapped her hands once. "Come!" She waited while her dog and Howard stared each other down, just like the first day when they had come to pick Amy up to take her to the theater in the woods. That day, Howard had been afraid of Shakespeare's barks, and had even asked her if he bit.

But Amy watched in shock as Howard sneered down at the dog, and this time, there was no fear in his face at all.

After another round of growling, Amy clapped again and called her dog's name. This time, he came padding over to her and sat on his haunches, faithfully waiting by her side. She cleared her throat and looked up again, this time meeting Sheldon's eyes who watched the entire exchange with a puzzled look on his face.

"I'm sorry about that, Howard," Amy said hesitantly. "He's usually better behaved."

"It's okay," Howard sniffed and gave her an easy smile. "He's just protective. I get it." He looked down at Bernadette and they shared a loving smile.

"Everyone ready to eat?" Sheldon broke the silence.

* * *

Amy was relieved that Howard and Bernadette were eager to leave after they finished eating. Sheldon had prepared homemade lasagna with pre-cooked sauces and meat, which was why it didn't take long to prepare, but it sure did fill all of their stomachs.

Both Amy and Sheldon stood at the front door, waving off Bernadette and Howard as they walked to their car. After Raj had left so quickly, the tension had immediately lifted, but Amy was not about to let Sheldon off the hook so easily. As soon as they closed the door and were finally alone, she opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by two large hands on her hips that forced her firmly against the closed front door.

"Sheldon!" she said, scandalized at his ravenous behavior. She gasped when he pressed the full length of his body against her, pushing her against the wooden frame. "What's gotten into you?"

"What's gotten into you?" Sheldon echoed in a teasing tone. Amy raised her eyebrow, unsure of what he meant until she felt the shocking intrusion of one of his hands between her legs. He spread his fingers and began to tease her center over her jeans. She slammed her head backward in shock, the loud _thud _of her skull on the door causing her to wince, but the faint pain was quickly overshadowed by the pressure of being fondled over her clothes by a sure hand.

She had to bite her lip from asking him, _What happened to going slow?_ She was a virgin, not an idiot.

"Does that feel good?" he whispered, his eyes now level with hers as he bent down, pushing his fingers harder against her, causing her knees to wobble. Amy nodded slowly, fighting to keep her eyes open. She brought her arms up and wrapped them around Sheldon's neck, pulling him down to kiss her. He obliged, running his tongue over hers as his fingers down below became more insistent. She whimpered when she felt them travel up and undo the button on her fly.

He pulled his lips away from hers to gauge her reaction.

"Please," she begged, unsure if she could form any more coherent words, so she poured as much emotion into that one word as possible. Suddenly, all the important questions she had to ask him about his behavior with Raj and the picture she had found in the box were simply not that important anymore. They died on her lips as Sheldon dove in and took her tongue in between his teeth, nibbling on her a bit before he slowly pulled down her zipper.

"You don't know what you do to me," he mumbled against her mouth, slowly parting her zipper with one hand, the other hand threading with her hair at the base of her neck. "_Oh_, Amy." His eyes blazed with a fiercer hunger than she had seen in him last night, and suddenly the air was still. Neither of them breathed. Amy knew it was the calm before the storm.

And like a moving picture set to fast forward, the quiet passed and Sheldon quickly dropped his hand from her hair. He reached down and grabbed her thigh with his large palm, then hiked it onto his hip. The other hand plunged into her jeans, beneath her underwear, and immediately found the wetness that had beckoned him.

She couldn't tell whose moans were louder in those initial seconds of contact. Amy had never been touched this way before so her cries of pleasure were raspy, stunted. Sheldon's grunts were muffled as he buried his face in the crook of her neck, relishing the warmth between her thighs. He trapped his hand between their bodies as he grinded into her, using his two fingers to explore her, rocking against her with her leg on his hip to give him better access.

Amy was more than sure that they looked animalistic, rubbing their cores against each other, Sheldon's hand hidden between her legs, her teeth sinking into his shoulder as he whined her name repeatedly in her ear.

"Amy, Amy…"

Before he could say it one more time, she threw caution to the wind and reached her uninjured hand down to burrow between the friction and began to rub his erection over his jeans. He exhaled loudly at her touch and let go of her leg for a moment to fumble with his own fly. She helped pull down the zipper carefully and soon she bit back her fear of inexperience and fingered her way into the waistband of his underwear. Soon, she felt her fingers wrap around his smooth, hard length. She innately began to stroke him, relishing the look of pure ecstasy on his features as he looked her in the eye. All the while, he continued to move his fingers in and out of her, matching the pace of her strokes.

"Yes," he hissed, his tongue touching his teeth which gave off the impression of that cute lisp Amy loved to hear. "You're so wet…"

He trailed off as Amy jerked him faster, careful not to squeeze him too hard, but her hold was firm. In response, he added a third finger. Before she could process another thought, a yell ripped out of her throat and hundreds of starry dots exploded in her vision. She felt her walls quiver around his hand and she moaned his name as he brought her to completion. Seconds later, Sheldon cried out as well, his hips rocking against her slower as her last couple of strokes resulted in his release. She moaned as the warm liquid splattered against her palm and only stopped moving with him when he winced and gave a small laugh, slowly detaching her hand from his spent member. Amy immediately let go; simple anatomy dictated that once a man had ejaculated, further stimulation was uncomfortable for the following moments.

They stood there, Sheldon still pressed firmly against Amy's body, and he laid his forehead on her shoulder, his warm breath tickling her heaving chest. After a few rounds of heavy breathing, he finally spoke.

"Amy," he murmured against her shoulder. "Will you be my date to the party on Friday?"

"You mean to the party here at my house?" she asked breathlessly.

"Yes," he said before gulping more air in. "That's the one."

"Yes," she answered. "I'll be your date."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

* * *

Amy sipped from a glass of wine as she sat at her kitchen table. She had taken the opportunity to load the dishwasher as Sheldon excused himself to the guest bathroom down the hall, and now she waited for him, the picture she had found of her father, his friends, and the RV lying flat in front of her on the table top.

After their escapade in the foyer, Amy had been extremely relieved that her medication had at least not taken her desire for Sheldon away from her and at the same time had kept visions of Penelope away. But after she had a few minutes to herself, she had realized that there were still so many questions to be answered. And judging by the familiar looking man with his arm draped around her father's shoulder in the picture, Sheldon was her best bet at answering them.

She looked up when she heard him walk back into the kitchen. His face was slightly flush and he was smiling shyly. He took the seat next to her and nudged her with his elbow. She nudged him back and they shared a laugh.

"I'm sorry for my behavior," he said after they lulled into a silence. "I don't know what came over me. I know we agreed to take it slow."

"It's okay," Amy assured him. "I didn't mind." She lowered her voice. "At all."

"Vixen." He waggled his eyebrows at her before he looked down at the table. His smile immediately dropped from his face. "What…what's that?"

Amy took a deep breath and pressed her fingers to the photograph. "I found a box in my room last night. This was inside, and you need to see it." Then she slid the picture over to him, which he took right away and began to study. She watched his features pale and he stood up without saying a word. She began to panic as he turned around and left the table.

"Sheldon," she said, anxiety creeping up her throat. "Where are you going?" She saw him stop at the counter where he had placed the box he had brought in earlier when he arrived. He picked it up and hauled it over back to Amy, setting it down on the table.

After a few seconds, Sheldon reached into the open box and sifted through it before he found what he was looking for.

"Something…something is going on," he said quietly. She studied his face as he pulled out the photograph and handed it to her. She took it and what she saw didn't surprise her as much as it should have.

In her hands was the exact same picture that she had clutched in her other hand.

Before she could say another word, Sheldon sat back down and placed his palm over hers. "Amy, I have a confession to make."

She tore her eyes away from the photo and looked up at him, her breath caught in her throat as she waited for him to continue. He took a deep breath and rubbed his free hand over his neck.

"This is a picture of my father and his friends. And the friend that he has his arm around is the late, great Robbie Fowler."

Amy didn't say a word as her equilibrium wavered.

"Robbie Fowler," he repeated. "Your father. I know who you are, Amy."


	11. Will Always Come to Light

**A/N: Does anyone out there hate me? I am **_**so **_**sorry for the delay! I'm absolutely sick over it. But school and work demanded more out of me than I anticipated this month. To those of you who have stuck with me, and to my new readers, I promise I will see this story through to the end. Never believe that I'll leave you permanently. **

**There's a link to my tumblr and twitter account in my profile where I often update about the progress of my fic. You're welcome to follow me on there and yell at me if it ever seems like I go missing again. :] **

**Enjoy this chapter as the plot deliciously thickens. **

* * *

_Summer, 1981_

_Evergreen Falls, WA_

George Cooper's long fingers were wrapped tightly around the tiny hand of his girlfriend's as they trekked carefully through the dark woods. They were losing the late afternoon sunlight the deeper they moved into the forest as the foliage thickened above them. He squinted at the piece of parchment in his free hand and stopped abruptly.

"Baby?" Helena Rostenkowski asked softly, squeezing George's fingers with hers. She knew better than to chastise him, regardless if they were on a wild goose chase with the stupid map George had found earlier. Her boyfriend had an explosive temper that she did not like to ignite. "What is it?"

"I can't read this fucking thing," he cursed, turning it over and back again. "Robbie, get over here!"

Robbie Fowler appeared by his best friend's side in seconds, but not before casually brushing his arm against Helena's hip. She blushed deeply and let go of George's hand as the two men hunched over the map. She studied George's defined back, broad shoulders, and shaggy raven hair as he stood next to Robbie's shorter, stockier frame.

"It's just a little further up and to the left," Robbie confirmed, ripping the page away from George's hands. He began to lead the way as the taller man scowled a little and pulled Helena along.

Although Robbie and he had grown up together and were the best of friends, George couldn't help but feel like Robbie made everything a competition. Together, they had formed an acting group and toured the country in George's RV, but everyone thanked Robbie for the experience. Sure, he was the best performer out of all of them and was the one who drew in the crowds, but if it had not been for George's convincing, Fowler never would have come along at all. He was constantly taking credit for everything, and when they found where this map was leading them, he would surely take that from George, too.

He tightened his grip on Helena's hand subconsciously.

"Up here!" Robbie called, a blip in the darkness thanks to his white t-shirt. "It's a clearing."

"Hank!" George hollered over his shoulder at one of the other guys in group following close behind. "Fowler thinks he found it. Burn the lamps; I need some more light up here."

After a moment, a lit kerosene lamp was handed to George and he relaxed a little, able to see the forest floor beneath him. He was about to call out to Robbie again when his friend let out a long, low whistle just ahead of them.

"Ho-ly shit," Robbie declared as George and Helena came up behind him. George's eyes widened and Helena loosened her grip on his fingers to bring her hands up to her face in shock.

"It's beautiful!" she squeaked, her tiny frame bouncing up and down. George lifted the lamp and it illuminated her strawberry blonde curls as they bobbed to and fro against her shoulders. A second later, she sprinted forward, making haste towards their discovery. The rest of the group arrived at the clearing and there, in the center of the small incline, was a wooden, makeshift theater.

"We probably could've made it sooner if Georgie had just given me the map to begin with," Robbie complained as he walked slowly towards the stage. George scowled again but his face quickly softened when he saw his Helena climb on the stage and begin to twirl around, her arms flailing as she spun. The sun peeked in through the trees enough to shine a lone ray upon her and his heart thumped a little faster. He truly loved Helena Rostenkowski, his first real girlfriend. Someday, he would make her his wife.

He shifted uncomfortably as memories of the last couple of months touring the country haunted him. He had made a mistake when they stopped in Houston about six weeks ago. Helena had not come with them on tour during summer vacation because her parents were extremely strict (and did not approve of George Cooper), and the nights got lonely. He had a one night stand with some local named Mary (who was also from a religious background and had ashamedly reminded George of Helena) and after weeks of her showing up to their gigs and basically stalking him, she had finally pulled out her last stop and said she was pregnant.

George could not, would not believe her. He packed up the group and they were gone by sun rise. He was only 18 years-old. Even if Mary was telling the truth, what good could he be to some baby? A wayward scamp, high school dropout chasing his dreams of becoming a famous Hollywood actor someday? He did the right thing by departing Texas and not leaving a trace.

The only soul he confided in about his mistake was Robbie, who was currently watching Helena with a slightly awed expression as she continued to twirl on the stage, humming loudly to herself a tune that George did not recognize. She was always doing that, humming loudly, a honeybee buzzing about. Yes, someday Helena would be his wife. He left Houston and Mary and her lies behind where Helena could never find them.

He knew that Robbie would keep his secret. George turned to study his best friend and his eyebrows furrowed together as the intensity in Robbie's stare trained on Helena grew deeper.

"George!" she suddenly yelled, grabbing his attention. "This place is yours!"

His wide, blue eyes blinked in astonishment as Helena's words sunk in. This map had led him to what he had previously not known had been left for him. Along with the mansion that he inherited when his parents died, this theater _did _belong to him now.

"I think you mean all of ours," Robbie chimed in, winking at George. "We like to share, right, Georgie?" Then he looked forward again, staring hungrily at Helena's form as she danced and hummed louder.

"Sure, Rob," George finally said, staring at Robbie until his vision began to blur. He joined his fists behind his back and rested them on the base of his spine, looking down his nose at his shorter friend. "Ours."

* * *

"_I know who you are, Amy." _

Less true words had never been spoken. No one really _knew _Amy. No one but Robbie Fowler.

As he spoke, Amy's brain stumbled against her skull like a drunkard feeling his way along a wall. Sheldon's voice had taken on a bubbling effect, like she was halfway submerged, her face afloat but her ears surrounded by murky water. She blinked a few times and snatched her hand back from under his, yanking it to her chest. Then she blinked again.

Amy thought she should be upset, but she realized she felt very little. Maybe it was on account of the medication; perhaps it reigned in her emotions. Or maybe she was just stunned stupid for believing that he had been honest with her. Of course he knew who she was. The question now was: what did he really want from her?

"Amy," he whispered, pulling her above water. She flitted her eyes nervously towards him and recoiled when he leaned in closer to her, scooting his chair in her direction. "Amy, listen. Let me explain."

"There's a reason," she began as her bottom lip trembled. She lowered her eyes to the table as she laid her hands flat on the surface. "There's a reason I didn't…tell you who I was. I didn't want you to know. But now you do know. And I can't look at you."

"Knowing your past doesn't change anything, Amy—"

"It changes _everything_," she promised. He reached forward to try and take her hand again when Amy shouted, "Don't!" Sheldon flinched and sat back in his chair. A moment later, Shakespeare came hurtling into the kitchen and sat by Amy's legs, nudging her thigh with his wet nose. She was quiet for a moment, allowing the gentle touch of her dog to calm her while she lowered her injured hand to pet his head carefully.

"Have you always known?" she asked suddenly, still avoiding his cobalt eyes that she could feel burning holes into her head.

"No," he said forcefully. "I truly didn't. But when we found that map in your room, I …I had to do some research on you. You wouldn't tell me anything about you—"

"There was a reason," Amy reminded him through gritted teeth.

"I know that now," Sheldon breathed. He dared to lean in again and Amy finally met his stare, eager to see if he was being honest with her. Her stomach fluttered when she remembered the map. Had Sheldon put it there?

"And I'm sorry, Amy," he continued. "I know it was a violation of your privacy, but I was intrigued as to why you had the map. Why you lived in this house. Why our lives seemed to collide out of nowhere after 30 years of being alive." He paused and reached his hand out again, letting it hover over hers instead of touching her. "This doesn't change how I feel about you."

"I don't believe you." Amy jumped up from her seat so fast that the heavy back of the wooden chair toppled over and clattered to the floor, startling Shakespeare and he yelped at Sheldon, daring him to get closer as Amy began to pace. "If you know me, if you know about my past, you would leave. You would drive away and never look back."

_It's what I would do_, she thought to herself as tears formed at the brim of her eyelids, splashing against her eyelashes every time she blinked. Her hands trembled in front of her as she wrung them together, wincing as her wound became irritated. Emotions finally began to seep in and the strongest of them all was humiliation. She wanted her father to shield her from this reality like he always had before, a reality where she was so exposed, like a gutted fish.

"No," Sheldon said firmly, talking loudly over Shakespeare's growls. He looked down and swallowed hard, stepping closer to Amy and still giving the guard dog a wide girth. "I'm not leaving you. That's why I brought this box. When I realized your father was my father's best friend, I had to bring it to you." He pointed his chin in the direction of the box he had brought to the table and pulled out the identical picture of their fathers. "There are items in there you have to see. Something is happening, there's a reason why we were brought together, I know it. And I intend to see it through."

"I'm not well, Sheldon," Amy's voice broke as she paced away from him. "I didn't want you to know." She faced the living room, her back turned to him, her thoughts flooring her. "I don't want you to know that I'm crazy." It was extremely quiet for moments and she had hoped he was taking the opportunity to leave when suddenly she felt the air around her change.

She closed her eyes as his large hands wrapped slowly around her shoulders. They were now sharing air, his breath evenly flowing near her ear as he stood behind her, pressing his body to hers. She felt her knees quiver and she sighed, a tear falling down her cheek. "I'm not well."

"I don't care," he declared in a low voice from behind her. She unconsciously sunk into him, her shoulder blades resting on his chest. The night in the barn abruptly came to her, when Sheldon held her from behind as he helped her pet his horse.

"Sheldon," she protested, shaking her head. Amy was not strong enough for this. She was ashamed of herself, her past. She was an adult orphan in a large house and it was a daily battle not to burn it to the ground while she stood inside. She had nothing to offer Sheldon. Amy realized, though, that even after just a week of knowing him, she could not imagine what life would be like without his touch. But she had to try. Her heartbeat sped up as Penelope's haunting promise rang loudly in her ears.

_It doesn't last. _

"Just go," she pleaded. She waited for him to release her, but he never did.

"You're mine," Sheldon groaned in her ear. "And I'm not giving you up." To seal his promise, he nudged her head to the side with his chin and brought one hand up to move her dark strands of hair from her shoulder. Then he rubbed his chin against the exposed skin before planting a moist kiss there. His stubble scraped her neck and it felt electric, jolting her from the core to every nerve ending. His breathing sped up as she pressed herself against him, and she felt the tiniest of twitches on her lower back as he responded to her touch. She moaned as he spoke again, leaving a trail of his breath and kisses along her shoulder. "Amy, please believe me. I don't care about your past."

She let him lower his hands to her waist then dip down until his fingers met on her pelvic bone. He pressed his fingers against her still sensitive center and she spread her legs on impulse. Before he could touch her further, he spun her around to meet his eyes. Blinking back more tears, Amy let herself look up at his face. It was time to be honest with him.

"I'm a pyromaniac."

He responded by pressing a kiss on the pulse on her neck.

"I heard voices for years that told me to harm myself."

Another kiss, this time on her chin, dangerously close to her bottom lip.

"I have hallucinations." She looked around Sheldon's shoulder as a flash of red turning the corner caught her eye. A billowing train of a dress behind her dog who was watching the couple carefully, ready to attack if need be. Of course she would appear at this moment.

"I'm having one right now."

"Look at me," he finally said, and she did. "Keep your eyes on me. I am what is real."

Her heart raced and the heat from his soft body confirmed that he indeed was very real. And instead of waiting for him to kiss her, Amy reached up on her tip toes and brought her lips to Sheldon's, her eyes open the entire time to watch him, just like he told her to.

Penelope watched from the dark as Sheldon wrapped his arms around Amy tighter.

* * *

He had helped her up to sit on the counter near the stove. The air was thick with their heavy breathing after they finally broke their kiss long enough to come up for a lungful. The staccato of fresh rain drops falling outside popped against the tin pipes just outside of the kitchen window. Penelope had long since left.

Amy's knees spread open and Sheldon stood in front of her, between them. He kept his hands on her thighs and his eyes on hers.

"Don't send me away," he said, his lips pink and swollen.

"I thought I could," she admitted, bringing a hand up to brush a stray lock of his hair off of his forehead. "I meant what I said, Sheldon. I'm not well. I'm on medication, but I have my days. It's been this way since I could remember."

"Your life must not have been easy," he said carefully. "To live such a high profile life in such a fragile state. I don't think I could have handled it. You're a lot stronger than you think you are, Amy Farrah Fowler." He leaned closer to her, tightening his grip on her thighs. In response to the stimuli, her head dropped back and she exposed her neck to him, which he quickly took advantage of. He nipped the slope of her throat and gave a plush kiss on the same spot.

She pulled her hands up and placed them on his shoulders, pushing him away just enough to bring her head back down and meet his eyes. "What's in the box you brought?" She giggled when Sheldon pushed hard against her hands, trying to kiss her again, but she resisted. "Seriously. You said I had to see it."

"Right," he relented with a sigh. "Come on." He held his hand out to her and helped her off of the counter before leading her back to the table. They sat down and Shakespeare joined them, sitting at Amy's feet to create a barrier between the two humans. His large eyes were steadily watching Sheldon as he began to extract items from his box to show Amy.

"When I realized you were Robbie's daughter, I went through this box that was stashed away. I had opened it once before, and in it was my map." He unrolled a coiled piece of parchment and pushed it in front of Amy. She gave it a once over, the tattered edges giving it a much older, antique appearance than hers. She put it to the side and gave Sheldon a nod, urging him to continue. "Also in this box were pictures I had been through before, but never gave much thought to. I always thought that the man in this picture looked familiar, but Robbie was very young in these pictures, no older than 18 years old. It was hard to recognize him from all the movies I've seen him in."

Amy gasped as Sheldon handed her handfuls of photographs that were of her father as well as Sheldon's, and other young kids. There were some of him in costume, and some of him on the makeshift stage in the middle of the woods. He looked so young and carefree, primeval. She had never seen Robbie look so happy. Raising her must have blown the light right out of him. She looked up after awhile and saw Sheldon studying her.

"So do you think…do you think my father owned the theater, just like your father?"

"I do," Sheldon said with a small nod. "Then again, I didn't know much about my father up until I got the phone call from his lawyers stating that his property was now mine. Anything I currently know about him, including the fact that he and Robbie were best of friends, was because of this woman, right here." He pushed his fingers on one photo and slid it across the table top to Amy. In the picture was George Cooper, a dashing photo copy of Sheldon. He had his long arm wrapped around a significantly shorter, petite woman with light brown curls and a beautiful, porcelain complexion. Her dainty nose sat charmingly above her wide, coy, familiar smile.

"Is that…" Amy started, unsure if she should say it. Could it be?

"Yes," Sheldon confirmed. "That's Helena Rostenkowski. My father's high school sweetheart and Bernadette's mother."

"Wow." Amy was appropriately shocked. It seemed as though almost all of the performers in Sheldon's company were related to generations before, and he was right; it did prove even more so that Amy did belong here. But how? Another thought sprung to mind as she looked up at Sheldon quickly. "Does that mean that Bernadette is your…half-sister?"

"No," he said curtly. "Bernadette has been adamant that her mother and my father had broken up before she was born. Though she has never met her real father, Bernie says she knows who he is, and it's not George. But Helena always loved my dad, until the day she died. Bernadette was kind enough to fill in some holes about his past to me when I first moved here, since I had absolutely no knowledge of George Cooper.

"As far as I was concerned, he was the asshole who knocked my mother up and left. But Helena had nothing but nice things to say about him, and so Bernadette made sure I only knew the good things." He looked down at his hands for a moment. "I always felt like there was a hole inside of me for never knowing my father, no matter how angry I was with him for leaving my mom behind like a used toy. But hearing the good things from Bernie kind of softened the blow." He paused for a moment and looked up shyly at Amy. "Would it be rude of me to assume that you can relate?"

"Not at all," Amy assured him, knowing exactly what he meant. Amy had always felt left of center, off-kilter, and she was insightful enough to know that it wasn't just her mental illness but the fact that she had no mother growing up. She still remembered the day she left the institution after hearing her mother's voice on the television for the first time and how painful the ridges of the hole in her body were at the sounds. "I thought it was silly, but I guess I always missed my mother, even though I had never known her."

They sat together among the photos of ghosts in their pasts, two lonely orphans in their late twenties and early thirties, as the rain fell outside. Amy sighed quietly and looked away from Sheldon for a moment when she saw her.

"Isn't this sweet?" Penelope asked in a mocking tone. Her nails tapped rhythmically against the wooden table top as she watched Amy and Sheldon. "The two love birds kissed and made up."

Amy's breathing sped up as she watched Penelope from her peripheral. Her eyes were trained on Sheldon who was still looking down at the photos, his brows furrowed as though he was trying to make sense of their connections. He was oblivious to her presence.

"Sh…Sheldon?" Amy asked, her voice shaking.

"Yes?" he answered, his head snapping up to look at her. He could sense the panic in her tone. "What's wrong?"

"He can't see me, stupid girl," Penelope spat. "You're the only crazy one here."

"It's time for my medicine," Amy declared, pointedly ignoring Penelope's comment. "I will be right back."

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice unsure. "I can come with you."

"No," she said quickly. She rose from the table and watched, still through her peripheral, as Penelope rose, too. "I'll be right back. Could you…could you take Shakes outside really quick? He should relieve himself before the rain gets worse."

"Sure." Sheldon got up and followed Amy to the foyer where they parted, her up the stairs while he called Shakespeare to go outside. She felt him watching her as she advanced up the steps but refused to look back.

When she was finally in her bathroom, she shut the door behind her and locked it. When she turned around and flipped on the light, Penelope was sitting on the edge of the tub, smiling widely. Amy walked calmly to her mirror and opened the door, reaching for her meds.

"I asked you if I should take my medication again," Amy said softly, not worried about Penelope being able to hear her. "That morning in my bed. I asked you, and you hesitated. Then you said, 'Not unless you want to wake up'."

Penelope was quiet as Amy placed the pills in her mouth and cupped her hand under the running water, bringing the liquid to her lips. She swallowed and shut off the faucet.

"What did you mean by 'wake up'?" she spoke again.

"You should have sent Sheldon away," Penelope ignored her question. "He is not who he appears to be. Stop thinking with your body. He only wants something from you, and it's not what is between your legs, although, he'll get use out of that, too." They were both quiet as the thunder shook the house. "You were born to be alone, Amy. Don't fight it."

"Am I awake, Penelope?" It was Amy's turn to ignore her comment. She braced herself against the sink before she whirled around and met Penelope's blazing green eyes. "Are _you_ awake?"

And with that, Penelope disappeared.

Amy ran out of her bathroom and took the steps down two at a time. She met Sheldon on her front porch just as he was calling Shakespeare to come inside. Over the roar of the rain, she shouted to him.

"Sheldon!"

"What's wrong?" he asked, his eyes widened with concern.

"You need to call Penelope. I think something might be wrong with her."

* * *

"I'm sorry about today, bud," Howard spoke through the phone. Rajesh nodded even though he couldn't see him and took a swig from his glass of whiskey. "I didn't know Sheldon and Amy were a _thing. _If I did, I never would've encouraged you to ask her out."

"It's quite alright," Raj assured his best friend. He sat behind his large desk at his home office, the sound of the rain and the ice swirling around in the liquor in his glass keeping him company. Raj had confided in Howard about his crush on Amy since the first night he saw her, and after much convincing, he had finally gotten the courage to let her know his interest at her house today. But he had been humiliated in defeat, by Sheldon Cooper, no less. He had always admired him from afar, thought of him as a treasured acquaintance, but was always told by his closest friends, including Howard, that he was not a man to be trusted. A young guy with all that money, living in a gigantic mansion with part-time help. What was he hiding?

"Anyway, I'd better let you go. I'll see you tomorrow for performances?"

"Sure, see you then." They hung up and Raj sighed loudly, leaning back in his leather chair as he stared at the flames popping in the fireplace near him.

As an accomplished lawyer with a healthy respect as well as knowledge for the law, Raj was appropriately concerned about went on behind closed doors at the Coliseum. But he was grateful to Sheldon for welcoming him into the acting company and providing a cathartic experience for him and his sister Priya at the theater so he never pushed it. Without the theater, Raj would never have met his dearest friends or had a social life outside of work. Actually, he suddenly realized, his booming social life was not on account of Sheldon. It was because of his best friend Howard Wolowitz that Raj was even able to speak to women.

Sure, at first, he thought hypnotism was pure hokum. Until it worked on him. He could still vaguely remember that night, even though he was trashed from all of the champagne, walking into that dark room and sitting in a chair as Howard stood in front of him and waved a golden watch back and forth, back and forth, until Raj was no longer in control of his own body or mind.

He thought hypnosis was the act of sleeping, but he had never felt more awake in his life. His senses had heightened and he had become aware of all of his faults and strengths. Howard talked him through every motion, assuring him that he had unlocked the hidden cove within his mind that would allow him to speak to women without inhibition ever again.

"Say it," Howard's voice had commanded him, and although Raj could not remember Howard telling him what to say, it was like their minds were one, melded so closely that he already knew what to say anyhow.

"I will never be afraid to speak to women again."

When it was all said and done, Howard had explained that he was now free of the crippling fear that kept him from fully experiencing life as it was meant to be lived. But there was one catch.

"There's a password, that only I know," Howard had explained. "It's a control. If I ever say it in your presence, you will clam up again. Sorry, buddy. It's how hypnosis works."

Raj wasn't worried though. Why would Howard ever need to shut him up?

* * *

"Amy, I'm sure she's fine."

"But she's not answering her phone."

Sheldon sighed and slipped his phone back into his pocket. "I don't know why she's not answering. Maybe she's busy."

Amy was not convinced. She paced around the living room, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. "She looked at me…when I asked her…she was afraid."

"What?"

She stopped pacing long enough to turn and give a pleading look in Sheldon's direction. "Sheldon, when I told you I was having hallucinations, I meant it. I've been having very specific kinds of visions that started when I stopped taking my meds. But even though I've begun to take them again, they're still coming to me."

"I don't understand," Sheldon said, licking his lips. "What does this have to do with Penelope?"

Amy held her breath for a moment before exhaling loudly. "My visions are of Penelope. She comes to me." She waited for Sheldon to give her a look of confusion, any sign that he had resigned and would bid her a good night. But none came. Instead, he fixed his hands on his hips and glared at Amy angrily. She cringed, afraid that she had upset him further than she realized.

"God damnit," he muttered and yanked his phone out of his pocket again. He redialed Penelope's number and cursed under his breath when it went straight to voicemail. He stuffed the phone back in his jeans and crossed his arms, focusing on a far away spot on the ceiling.

"If you want to go, I understand," Amy said quietly, sadness staining her tone.

"God, no, Amy," Sheldon breathed, his demeanor thawing out as he shuffled across the living room to meet her. "No, it's not you. I promise. It's just…"

"What?" she demanded, watching his face as he worried his bottom lip with his top two teeth.

"Penelope," he finally answered. "That night on the porch, she was trying to tell me something. And I thought it was just her being petty out of jealousy for you."

Amy blanched slightly. What could Penelope have said?

Sensing her apprehension, Sheldon touched her face lightly, then let his hand fall. "She told me that you were only acting interested in me for my money. That you knew who I was and you were going to use me."

"Sheldon," she protested, feeling sick to her stomach. "I had no idea who you were. I literally stumbled upon you." _And I've got my own damn money_, she thought angrily to herself.

"No, I know that," Sheldon assured her with conviction. He took a step closer to her. "I didn't believe her, of course. But as her behavior became more insistent that I send you away, it angered me. And I stopped listening to her nonsense." He looked around the living room, his blue eyes darkening as he swept the empty space. "And now she is showing up in your hallucinations?"

Amy was still trying to process his words. "Did you say she told you to 'send me away'?"

"Yes," he said with a tight nod.

She felt a chill roll through her body as she remembered not even ten minutes ago in the bathroom when Penelope had told her the same thing.

"_You should have sent Sheldon away." _

"Sheldon, are you all performing tomorrow? In the woods?"

"Yes," he answered quickly. "The weather is supposed to clear up. Penelope should be there, she never misses a performance. We'll clear all of this up with her tomorrow."

"But what if she doesn't show up?" Amy asked.

They stood in silence, watching each other carefully. The rain continued to fall outside.

* * *

So tired.

_Back and forth_

So very tired.

_It swings_

"You're almost there."

_Until it stops_

The flicker of gold disappeared and surfaced, over and over again, never staying in one place.

_Back and forth_

"Open your eyes."

The scene changed. She was no longer herself. Her body belonged to someone else.


End file.
